


Tales of the Pulse Part 4 - Smile More, You Look So Pretty

by Titan_MassMind



Series: Tales of the Pulse [5]
Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: BDSM, F/M, Female Muscle - Freeform, enslavement, female muscle fetish, female muscle growth, heavy domination
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:01:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26224585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Titan_MassMind/pseuds/Titan_MassMind
Summary: The year is 2004.  Three days ago, the world ended.  Nonetheless, it spins on.Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that the World of Man and the Age of Heroes ended.  Pounded into the ground somewhat literally.  Across the globe, roughly one woman in every fifty-five thousand has transformed-- transcended-- into colossal post-superhuman muscle goddesses called Hunters.  The very weakest of them could fracture continents, were it not for the mysterious power that Hunters even now instinctively named Gaia-Geb.Not every woman changed was famous; not every woman changed victimizes the famous.The Tampa Bay native supervillain, Herman "Shark Jaws" Miller is about to find out that the strength and toughness that has made his life a series of easy living moments punctuated by being slapped around by superheroes is about to be obliterated.  But really, what the tremendous Sarah Russel wants is for him to smile more.She's sure he'd look so much prettier for her that way.
Relationships: OC/OC
Series: Tales of the Pulse [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1602472





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Herman "Shark Jaws" Miller is an asshole. This was not uncommon in the Age of Man, especially not for men like Shark Jaws. Big, strong, and willing to do the unthinkable then wonder why everyone turned against him the moment they had numbers even before his transformation into a two meter regenerating goliath of the old world, he has always been an asshole.
> 
> Superpowers do not change people very much, to be honest. They mainly take that which is within them and magnify it. Mega-powers, now... Omega-tier abilities that make their bearers so far beyond their once-fellowship of sapient beings that even the gods themselves would tremble in their passing...
> 
> Those tend to cause problems.
> 
> Sarah Russel has hundreds of mega-powers. She has mega-strength and mega-regeneration; mega-sight both maxi and micro (and nano, and...); mega-speed and mega-intelligence. She even has mega-powerful abilities 
> 
> Or perhaps they are giga-powers. Hunters are... beyond. Sarah isn't a paricularly strong Hunter, either. But she's the Hunter who can see Shark Jaws.
> 
> Knows Shark Jaws.
> 
> Wants Shark Jaws.
> 
> And Hunters get what Hunters can take.

Three Days Post-Pulse

Tampa Bay, Florida

Tampa Bay lies in ruins. Even a native wouldn't recognize the streets without an overhead map. Here and there some store with better anti-meta reinforcement stands; sometimes, freakishly, a building with no protection at all is structurally intact. Almost none of them are unlooted, at least the surface levels.

It's only been three days. Just a little more than one woman in every fifty-five thousand changed.

It was enough.

The world was supposed to end in 2K. Or maybe 2001. It didn't.

_ Who was thinking 'late 2004'? _ Herman "Shark Jaws" Miller sure wasn't.

In fact, looking at the prick now, Sarah Russell knows he still thinks it isn't going to end. At least not for him. Nobody who survived more than an hour after the Pulse should be smiling like that unless they  _ know _ they're going to survive. Citation needed.

They're all expecting the heroes to save them. Even big thugs like this. The bad guys, not sticking their necks out to clean up the mess at all, but they're sure that the heroes will fix it all.

Not that Shark Jaws could do much more than lift heavy objects and put them down. A pre-Pulse C-lister wouldn't even have a Name to lend some underground resistance unit.

The only reason Sarah knows his real name because she was a witness at his fourteenth trial just for destruction of public property.

The big son-of-a-bitch just slept through it, then smashed his way out when no one would "bring him a burger."

That's not why she's here, though. Not revenge. Hell, the city's insurance paid for a new car and the next three month's rent after. The ReStrain bolts weren't tuned right, or something. Like she cared.

She's not here for him at all.

Shark Jaws is two point oh-eight meters tall. Darth Vader sized and built-- armor included. Big dude, who knows it, his signature ear-to-ear grin not even the smuggest thing about him. Deadlifts around in the eighty ton weight class or so. Tough, a self-healer ("sharks regenerate"), but nothing else. No swimming. No sawblade teeth, not that it would matter. Can't talk to seafood. Maybe the bald counts?

A bit sensible in some things. He wears a bodysuit with armored hardpoints normally, and has thrown a duster over it to keep the blues and whites out of sight. Sarah thinks it makes him look like a telephone pole. He's stockier than the usual top-heavy superhero look. More like a skinmovie's Scary Biker Dude or a real weightlifter than the overbalanced twerps in tights.

She can see the suit. She can see the flesh beneath. She can see within the taut, grayish skin; she can see the very cells of his body.

Now, she sees everything.

Sarah used to like way heroes look in tights. Wisted after a few of them. Now the whole jammies and necktowels image irritates her Pulse-sharpened sight (and aesthetics), which doesn't stop the tights brigade-- or Shark Jaws-- from getting her horny and irritated. Everything makes Sarah horny these days.

Most of it irritating. Like how Shark Jaws thinks he can just pry into a shuttered store in  _ her _ territory, boost some shit, and leave the messes for  _ her _ toys to clean up.

_ It's been three days, and I'm already a slaver, a rapist, and a murderer. I wish these Hungers would just STOP! _

She stopped crying about it the afternoon after. All it does is make her more angry. And that's just counterproductive.

_ After all, if I turn the stupid bitch into a fine red mist, I have to keep hunting. I have to remember that. _

_ Or Hunting. If they're right. If this was always coming. _

That's one of the reasons she hates them. The heroes, more than the villains. Some of them knew for sure; the women she reads gleefully talking about Hunt this and Hunger that online talk about "finally" bringing down this hero or that, and turning villainous co-workers into pretty little slaves.

_ It's their fucking fault. They knew. They could have saved us. _

Now, she has to Hunt or go crazy. Fuck. Twenty-five fucking orgasms a day; her last boyfriend didn't usually manage one a  _ week. _

Hurt. Hurt others, and fight with others of her own kind so she's hurt herself. That's the  _ other _ reason Tampa Bay lies in ruins; none of her sister 'Hunters' can afford  _ not _ to fight.

Frankly, going out in public at all right now and being willing to throw-down is a public service, as a result.

_ I suppose I should pick some 'villain' name. But isn't everyone supposed to be the hero of their own story? _

Sarah hadn't been that angry at the world before the Pulse. She harbored no more than the normal resentments against men, either. She can't say that she remembers wanting to break the system, overthrow corporate hegemony, or even rob that many banks.

Honestly, it was mainly only when the fees got jacked up… despite never missing a payment.

She is pretty sure that she wants to show everyone now, though. Yes, she does.

No, Sarah isn't here for Shark Jaws. She isn't really here for anyone in particular.

He'll do.

Or die.

A hungry, predatory smile widens,and it's not Shark Jaws'. Sarah can see his thick, corded neck-- his heartbeat is slowly slowing... She can see his big, broad shoulders start to relax. She's seen it before. A subtle unkinking as the body protests being alert for too long and winds down the strain.

Perfect. She likes perfection a lot, actually.  _ It's the only thing that doesn't make me angry _ . And Shark Jaws Miller is the perfect victim, the way she's feeling right now.

Just like Sarah is perfect, and knows it, and it's wonderful. The perfect, smooth globes of her ass wriggle as the excitement builds up in her. Her long, powerful legs tense, oversized quads bulging as she prepares power for the spring.

She thinks the yoga pants look quite lovely, to be honest. And they do make her already hot butt look hotter. The tanktop is a custom job; nothing else would fit over her colossal knockers, let alone have the right size fitting in the front

Shark Jaws doesn't see any of it.

Yet.

He's a mile across town. That's probably why he thinks he's safe. Her broad _ er _ shoulders roll, big arms spread. Muscles she only recently learned the names for swell across her whole body

A big girl before the Pulse, Sarah is now fifty centimeters taller than Shark Jaws. If he's a telephone pole, she's a tree, ancient and vast and scoffing at the erections of mankind.  _ Of which most deserve the scoffing. _

_ No one has satisfied. No one! _ Inadequate, scoffable erections are why shark's on the menu today.

At least his is scaled to the right height. She's got her doubts about when he's hard. But it's… usable. And he heals, doesn't he?

That, and the stupid son of a bitch  _ is  _ near her territory.  _ I'd say I'm going to rape him for threatening my poor bitches until his hips have regenerated at least four times… _

_ Except that the reason I'm hunting at all is my toys, bitches and bitchboys alike, just keep leaving me HUNGRY! _

Shark Jaws… might not, if he can learn to be more than just a piece of meat to be fucked. She doesn't have too many metas yet; she's a tall girl but not one of the  _ big _ girls. But she's heard that regenerators don't have refractory periods.

His tall body is in some ways pleasing enough. Shorter than she but not so much shorter that he'll just vanish between her tits, and, honestly, in a world where most men (and the majority of women) look like scrawny little twigs stuck together between paper dolls, from a certain point of view, he's pleasingly graceful. A dancer's look, as laughable as that would seem.

The bald head isn't too bad-- smooth, not patchy or stubbly, like all of his body, including… Sarah snorts.  _ Yep. Bald balls. Oh well; they squeeze just as easily, I'm sure. And  _ those _ are nice and big, and the big girls also say that means stamina. _

_ Of course, most of what they write about men is batshit crazy, so I'm not sure how much other than "weaker than a Hunter" and "fit only to please us" I can trust. _ But she'll keep it in mind. If nothing else, having more for him to fail at will give her more things to beat him over.

But yes; when she's not looking at him in comparison to all the normals she can see, even his shoulder-breadth doesn't make him look like anything more muscled than a dancer. That his muscles are smooth bulges like some of her more weightliftish sister Hunters, and not intricately defined like her own... Heck, that just makes him look  _ more _ like what her pretty little dancers should, if not for the fact that most of them don't have waists bigger than one of her thighs.

Shark Jaws does. If not by much. It makes her smile broader than he could ever manage-- she always has liked her dancers, especially the ones with nice thighs.

Sarah licks her lips and pants softly from her mile-away viewpoint, her eyes widening and pupils dilating.  _ Why, yes, those  _ are _ nice thighs. From my point of view. _

The bluntness of the face is enough to irk her, and even reminding herself that it's going to get dinged up soon doesn't soothe her savage Hunger. But he does have very pretty blue eyes.  _ That seems weird. Do sharks…? _

She can see sharks from where she is, passing through the bay. A lot less traffic out there-- almost none-- and while the water seems to distort her sight, a little, there are plenty close to the surface. So she can check-- without taking her eyes off him, or the entrances to her little underground enclaves. It's convenient.

It makes Sarah giggle. Giggle and squeeze her musclebound thighs together with anticipation.  _ Yes, sharks do have such pretty blue eyes. I hope Shark Jaws manages to serve well enough. Be a shame to have to pop 'em out of his ugly head. _

Hunger flashes through her

She sees Shark Jaws start to pry a security door, off a slightly more paranoid tech store's brick storage unit. It  _ does _ make her feel more vicious. Like her territorial sense is starting to push out into the no-woman's land.

She leaps. Forget tall buildings; the only reason she doesn't call this flying is that a single bound is usually over too quickly to change direction. So she hops from spot to spot in a blink of an eye, twisting through the air to avoid sonic booms, burning her clothes, or otherwise alerting her prey.

It bothered her how easily she figured that all out, that and stuff like how to spin to use her boobs as counterweights in strikes, how to judge micrometer distances so she just fractures skulls and not breaks them-- all sorts of things, packed in along with the smarts to add all sorts of other data within moments of waking up from the Pulse.

Like it was planned. Like they're meant to be an army, or something. That makes the paranoia of the Hungers worse.

It does make it remarkably easy to clothesline Shark Jaws, though. She's spinning through the air already. Calculating the angles so that she ends up where her arm can hook into the small of his back, slam him into the security door,  _ and _ force the security door back into its mounting is trivial.

_ If I had to reinvent geometry on my own to make up for skipping most of it in high school, at least it's fun! _

It is fun, too, smacking into him just hard enough to make it  _ hurt _ but not to destroy him.  _ Funny, though-- an eighty-tonner should have been paralyzed below the waist with a shot like that for a little while. _ Instead, he screams, bruises lighting up the small of his back and his spine cracking, mashing discs across the cord but not actually severing or cutting anything off.

_ Extra fun! _

Sarah moves so amazingly fast that it doesn't matter. Instead of looming over him as he sobs on the ground, she flips him around before the first part of his agonized bellow even passes his lips. His shoulderblades dent the security door, and the shock knocks the wind out of him.

"Whu--"  _ Men make such stupid grunts, _ the lingering rage in her whispers as she grabs his smaller hands in hers-- interlacing the fingers just like it was a date or some shit-- and crams his wrists back hard against his hips. Soft for her, but not so soft as she was expecting to require.

The grunt, question, or whatever, turns back into another pained roar, but nope, his wrists don't break.  _ Interesting… _ She's quickly bored of his screaming, so she kisses him fiercely, shoving her tongue into his mouth and forcing his teeth apart. Like most she kisses, he moves them apart rather than risk breaking them.

Unlike most, he's stupid enough to try to clamp down. Habit, probably. She enjoys his panicked squirms as he manages to actually hurt his soooo-tough-teeth on her tongue, and wrestles around with his for a moment.

_ Heh. That's not just a panic erection down there. _ Sarah's only kissed one other Hunter, and it did taste sweet, but nothing like the reactions it seems to get from everyone else.

Shark Jaws moans into the kiss, sucking on her tongue as she wrestles his down again and again. Like all of her smooching partners, he reacts instinctively, arching his back against her as his cock thickens within his armored bodysuit.  _ Has to be uncomfortably tight, that, _ she thinks gleefully, her sadism-Hunger flaring.

He keeps himself bent backwards as she leans across his skinnier body, her already stiff-nipples denting the bodysuit as her pillowy tits spread against it. Eventually, his brain catches up with his situation, and when another attempt to chew on her tongue gets him nowhere, he begins to thrash about in her grip.  _ Bo-ring. _

Sarah lets his hand go, breaks the kiss, and slaps him carefully across the jaw so fast her handprint burns into the side of his face-- and so fast she's got his hands back under control before he can do much more than drop his jaw in shock. "I don't like the broken teeth look," she says with a chuckle. "But believe me when I tell you I  _ will _ break them if you don't get into line."

"Fucking hell, bitch!" he snarls, making her roll her eyes. "Let me the fuck go!"

"Nah," she says, and slaps the other side of his face. "There, now you match!" She can't help but giggling, a bit high-pitched for her size but not too bad evened out by her deep, barrel chest.

There's a rather stunned look on his face. It doesn't surprise Sarah. It may have been three days since the end of the world, but macho twits like this always seem to have a problem with the difference between her smiling face, cute, pert nose, and the gargantuan frame beneath.

So few of them pay attention to the pain and anger she sees in her own gray eyes. No darkness behind them, a complete multidirectional vision-point that looks out through her body for uncounted kilometers, except she can and does count them.  _ Maybe it's the hair? _

She's not changing her hair for anyone. She dyed it steely gray just to match her eyes before the Pulse, and she was  _ glad _ the Pulse kept it that way, even when it grew from just above her shoulders to the small of her back. A simple, long ponytail is all she's ever needed, done up to give it a bit of extra lift.

"Fuh-- the wha... " Shark Jaws shakes his head and blinks the stun away. His grayish skin begins to darken, especially around the cheeks and throat. Anger at her; daring to disdain her hold.

Foolish; if it wasn't so laughable, she might get angry. He hardly recognizes it, the twit, so she wriggles her eyebrows at him. He still simply just doesn't get it. He still thinks the face  _ is _ a dichotomy with her muscles…

Rather than being the perfect crown for them. "You should get used to it, baby," she says with a laugh. "You should be  _ hoping _ to get used to my face."

_ You know, he's already in my colors, gray and blue. Convenient! Like he was made to be my slave... _

Shark Jaws just stares, confusion everywhere.  _ A bit slow. Means I'll "have to" train him extra hard. _

She snickers; his jaw is dropping in something like an open-mouthed smile. "Aw, anyone tell you before you got a real pretty smile?"  _ I doubt it, unlike the assholes who thought after the third month of double shifts it was just a great time to insist I should. _

One of the best parts of being a Hunter is being able to reverse the script on most of her old annoyances. "You should do it more once your face finishes healing," she tells him, giving him a toothy smirk of her own.

Something of the truth of the situation seems to penetrate his somehow dense yet so very, very breakable skull. He winces back and away from her words, rather than cursing at her and trying to intimidate her.  _ Because that's ever going to work out for you, Smiley Jaws. _

Maybe it's how toothy  _ her _ smile gets, especially the canines. Maybe it's the way her high front bangs, coupled with the sun at her back, shadow the top half of her face. Humans tell her that her gray eyes glint like iron, especially in the dark.

_ Sounds like pareidolia and confirmation bias to me.  _ Whatever the cause, the brakes have been temporarily thrown on the machismo train he calls a mouth. So she smiles all the wider.

Sarah's face is a bit broader than it used to be, but still feminine, almost girly with the way her cheekbones curve, though you'd think he'd pay more attention to, say, the bulges of strength from where her back muscles merge with shoulder and neck-- or, hell, even the shoulders themselves; big, banded near-spheres pushed into each other like balls inflated under rubber bands- only there's nothing about  _ her _ muscles that looks fake or air-pumped.

Instead, every single muscle, while dramatically expanded, has crisp grooves and shaping, organic lines and curves that bulk out without becoming awkward. Where Shark Jaws' puny muscles have a stocky-thick look, enhanced by the secondary layer on top of the normal human primaries, hers look sculpted, the secondary layer accentuating without bloating the base. And she's got a  _ third _ set of muscles, interconnecting webs that both follow the base form itself, and look a bit like the overall muscle itself.

So while his dinky little biceps, barely discernible from the officeworkers and store bosses in her collection, puff out a bit bluntly, with an extra bit of almost stylized heft, hers look like her definition has definition. Holding him like this-- which puts her triceps on titanic display but doesn't do much for the usual "peaks"-- still makes her upper arms bigger than the biggest flex she's seen him try.

The apparent dichotomy seems to stun humans. Especially men, doubly so if--like Shark Jaws-- their vision is full of the pillowy excess of tit that makes porn stars look positively petite. The one bi hooker she nabbed to teach the others how to eat muff when they're not working for her otherwise always shivers with a combination of awe and humiliation, like she wonders if Sarah is measuring her for the Itty Bitty Titty Committee.

_ Of course I am, cunt. I need to feed. I need to feed! _

Before he can recover from the stun, Sarah flexes her huge thighs and squeezes her firmly plump asscheeks together, slamming her groin up against his six-pack and knocking the wind out of him. They're a bit dinky, too, compared to her perfectly sculpted wall of abdominals. It's one of the cutest things about him, though, other than the fact that she can imagine him as a twinkletoes preening little dancer  _ and _ squat telephone pole at the same time now.

"Mm," she rumbles, as he coughs and chokes. "Yeah… If you gotta go, it's gonna be legs across these, Shark Jaws. Feels  _ real _ nice, the texture does."

Shark Jaws is still wobbly from the battering, shoulders twitching and eyes unable to focus. "Gotta g- fuck you! I will fuck you the fuck up!" he yells at her, but she rolls her eyes.

"So many guys promise the fucking," she sneers. "So few perform well enough to get out from between my legs intact. Didn't I fucking tell you to smile?

Sarah's knee comes up, jabbing into his solar plexus and crunching the nearest ribs. Shocked by the abrupt, total violence, his wince turns into a grimace of pain. She sucks her lower lip in over her teeth and widens her eyes as the sight-- and the rush  _ from _ his pain.

It'll do.

Her yoga pants are already soaked at the crotch; hazards of Hunter Horniness. But that just shows off her pussy quite nicely-- not that he can see through her breasts like she can, but she likes the way it looks. She also likes the way the stretchy fabric hugs her huge quads and hulking calves, and especially big ol' bouncy-booty.

_ Speaking of booty, let's check out the goods a little more closely, eh? _ Ignoring the fact that she's holding Shark Jaws' hands-- like they matter any more than the rest of him-- she slams her hands around behind him, digging past the metal and squeezing his butt.

Well, mostly ignoring his hands; she has uses for those fingers and she's not sure how fast they'll heal.

"Yeah, you gotta nice rump, Shark Jaws," Sarah purrs, and leans down to nibble on his jaws. "Nice enough I could make this easy on you… if you take the easy way out. Boys like you never do, though."

And he doesn't, going beet red with fury. "You stupid fucking bitch!"  _ Again with the f-word and the b-word. Uncreative. _

_ Unsmiling again, too. Ungrateful little twit. Maybe I'm going to have to unmake him. _

_ Or at least, untwit him. _

But then, he manages to be amusing, just a bit. "You bitches ain't all that! I've taken one of you out… I coulda been A-List!"

_ The latter… Yeah, you're about that upper range pathetic. The former? _

_ Unlikely. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Into the embrace of the gray-eyed Hunter named Sarah Russel has Shark Jaws Miller been cast. In some ways, he's very lucky; she is not one of the Lethals, the mostly-mad Hunters who seem compelled to add real death to the little when having sex. In some ways he's very unlucky.
> 
> She is not very well fed and she is not very sane. Her Hungers tell her that the world and everything in it exists for her pleasure... And to feed those Hungers.
> 
> Lying to her about being able to kill a Hunter earned him mockery. Inability to please her earns him grievous bodily harm. Being rude- by her lights- makes him meat.
> 
> That's okay. She has four steps that can make any man (or woman) suitable for her- once they've been chosen.
> 
> Step one: Capture the man. Find him, take him. Easiest of them all.
> 
> Step two: Belittle the man. Make him feel small. Make his dreams and his ego feel like shit.
> 
> Step three: Find his levers- the things that make him lose all caution or sense-- and shove them into his gut.
> 
> Step four: Pain. Pain and humiliation. Step four also goes on forever…
> 
> Of course, he could have cut the pain, and even some of the humiliation. If he'd just learn to smile more, and say please.

Shark Jaws Miller has made two dangerous claims for a man of the changed Earth. First, that he "coulda" been A-List, one of the superpowered terrors who haunted the old world. In the hands of the Hunter who's taken him, all that means is he'll be useful longer.

Or make for as close to an epic fuck as any man can manage-- on his way out.

Second, he claims he's "taken out" a Hunter before. It's not wholly unlikely. The very weakest of the weak, at least-- not quite where Sarah Russell would be placed. She's tall, gray-eyed, with slightly glinting, steel-gray hair… and an almost obscenely muscle-bound, a goddess valkyrie ready to choose a soul to keep.

Or to reap.

But Shark Jaws isn't likely to have made it far beyond Tampa, "A-list" in disguise or no. And she can see so much of the world, her world. So perhaps, she can see the truth.

Sarah searches her memory while she holds him. Her huge, burly arms, rippling with terrifying power, are broader than his  _ legs _ , and certainly better sculpted. But just a finger could hold him; taking a stroll down memory lane while she researches him…

Easy. What's the threat? He could escape? He could hurt her? It's hard for her not to giggle at the thought.

Sarah frowns, which Shark Jaws apparently takes for fear, or something? He begins some frankly _ adorable _ huffing and puffing, straining himself that the part of her paying attention to his feeble thrashing vaguely recognizes as "flexing," in as best a manner as masculine muscles might, in the changed world Sarah occupies. In other words… 

Only barely perceptible, and possibly only because she's her own electron microscope.

But, hey, at least the contextually lithe, built-husky man is smiling again!

What she's really doing is sorting through her eidetic memory. While she can think far, far faster than even most speedsters, she's in the lower quartile of her kind, and accessing a fragmentary part of her memory that wasn't a primary thread can take a breath or two.

Of course, her awareness of her fellow Hunters is always at least on the priority list, regardless of what threat they maintain. So Shark Jaws is left with only a few seconds to slam himself as "mightily" as he can against her casually pressed fingers. When she finds the memory, it makes her burst out laughing, almost as much as his attempts to, well… break out.

"You look like you're so scared you're going to brown your pants, only you're constipated and making a go of it!" Sarah chortles. Because, really.

His pretty jaws are straining, cute white chompers grinding. His pretty blue eyes, bugging out as though she had him between her tits and was deciding he didn't have much use any more. Slender, cute shoulders, so much bigger than an ordinary man, making so little difference over any ordinary human in her embrace.

Sarah manages to restrain most of her smile, though she knows she can't quite get the dismissiveness out of it. He makes her wet like this-- trying so hard, hurting himself so much, just for her. Because that's all this is-- a different kind of hopelessness, a different kind of humiliation, a different kind of pain.

_ How to get a new, pretty pet. Step zero: make your selection. The tough ones are great, especially the ones who think bluster is the same thing as extra toughness. _

_ I don't know how the big ladies missed a regenerator like this one… but he's mine now, mine, and my pussy's. _

As he comes close to breaking his own fingers, trying to push their way out of her gentle hold, she tilts her head to the side and lets out a soft, "Oooh." Her eyes are closed, but she can still see it in him: the panic spreading in those adorable baby-blue eyes-- such a match for her top!-- the strain on his wimpy biceps, the burn…

_ Step one: Capture the man. Find him, take him. Easiest of them all. _

She can even see the anaerobic respiration set in. Lactic acid building up faster than his regeneration can break it back down and recycle it the preternatural way. The trembles spreading to his lissome weightlifter's chest; even the more efficient secondary musculature straining and puffing out like he's going to suddenly start getting some B-cups to go with his adorably willowy body.

_ Thinking of him like that… some loose-limbed sylph, or nereid, I guess… yeah, some limber little nereid-- it helps me keep him alive. Because really, the dancers I collected-- they look so tiny, like dolls. He's worth keeping for that, me… _

But Shark Jaws needs to learn that first; that and to keep smiling for her. He's stuttering and spluttering, threatening her--  _ threatening _ her, of all the stupid things-- shaking himself back and forward. Tensing his abs and pecs so much he's close to tearing… No.

_ Is _ tearing his muscles, relying on his regeneration to backstop the attempts to get free. It makes Sarah fume.  _ Damaging my property is a pleasure reserved for me! _

"Oh, stop it," she sneers, and spits to the side, cracking the concrete. "You look ridiculous!"

Shark Jaws' eyes keep straining, the left more than the right. The pupils are dilated, and to her disgust, only partly with arousal. The rest?

_ Delusion. _

His chest heaves and breaks in waves of tension as he tries to breathe while hauling all he's got-- and more-- to try and break free. "I'm gonna fuck you up," he pants. "I coulda… been…"

"A-list?" Sarah asks with a laugh. "A-list  _ what _ , meat?" Then she spits to the side. "Can't even manage an A-grade smile, little meat!"

_ Step two: Belittle the man. Make him feel small. Make his dreams and his ego feel like shit. _

Slowly, her fists begin to grind into his sides. Towards the kidneys. No ribs down here, and the armored plating shatters even before Shark Jaws' knuckles start to break.

"You look like you like watching your fellow men go grunt and stroke each other while all sweaty, Shark Jaws," Sarah says, licking her tongue in slow curls over her lips. She nods, bouncing her high ponytail about.

_ Asshole. _ Of course he starts swearing, choking on his own spit as his struggles get him nowhere.  _ Tell a man you're making his wife fuck her best friend, dick goes up. Tell a man he's fucking his best friend, and suddenly he's berserk or weeping not to. _

_ So… fucking… simple! Not to mention, it's so easy to get them to want it, anyway.  _ The Pulse set Hunters free. Men seem to be the ones who make them the hungriest, but women will do, too.

They're all so weak.

_ Step three: Find his levers-- the things that make him lose all caution or sense-- and shove them into his gut. _

It's so easy, playing with the macho ones' heads; especially when you're already showing them how weak they are, steps one through infinity. "Yeah," Sarah says with another curt, horny nod. "You look like that's your kinda thing, Shark Jaws. You ever see a boxer take a kidney punch?"

_ Three and a half. While the first lever's on its way, counterbalance it. Call his favorite pastimes the things he fears. Show him how ridiculous it all is. _

Before Shark Jaws can stumble to an answer, she yanks his arms back out to the side, nearly breaking his elbows and definitely cracking the shoulder joints. He'll heal from that. He'll also heal from having her slam their intertwined hands into his kidneys at about as fast as she thinks he can take.

But the screaming takes a while to stop.

_ Step four: Pain. Pain and humiliation. Step four also goes on forever… _

"Shut it!" Sarah roars after a few minutes of letting her clit throb to the tune of his agonized howling. He does, of course, weeping and going limp.

Not all of him is limp. Including the  _ other _ part of him that makes her contemplate keeping him. Stupidity with her property aside.

He can be trained, after all.

Her knee comes up to his groin; she gives a quick  _ flex _ of her thigh-muscles, all the way down. A sharp inhalation crosses over him, his brows raising in terror as the  _ CRACK _ sound follows. The armored cup of his bodysuit is destroyed instantly, and she laughs as he flinches away, whimpering.

The goods are unharmed, mainly; just slapped around like a Bana Mighdall amazon had slapped his nuts and cock a bit. She rolls her eyes as the sobbing intensifies, his thin little he-behemoth body quivering in her arms like a leaf.

"That was  _ nothing _ , Shark Jaws," Sarah sneers. "Stop being such a stereotypical little tough-guy, or I'll give you something to really cry about."

He goggles at her, bright blue eyes going wide and mouth unable to close. "You can't-- I--" It trails off into a whine, shuddering through his blunt muscles, packed the best a man can get.

Sort of. She knows she can get some better sculpting into him. It's all a matter of the right exercises.

With the right incentive.  _ Speaking of... _

Forcing Shark Jaws' thighs apart, she begins to rub more and more of her thick, brawny thigh against his lightly abused-- but decently girthy-- cock. "See? This part of you stays at attention!"

More babbling, more calling her a bitch-- really, she's just not impressed.

She flexes just the lower heads of her quads, slapping his sensitive inner thighs with a sudden bulge of muscle. "Quit. Your. Bitching," she hisses at him, and the babbles trail off into whimpers.

"If I wanted this broken, I'd have started there," Sarah sneers. "Shit. A-List?"

Her fist flicks, the feather lightness of the motion barely even  _ moving _ the intricate array of muscles on her left arm. It's almost at the very edge of her self-control, shattering just two of his ribs, and leaving enough regeneration in him to heal the whining little screamer enough to be useful. But the feel of his bones shattering like balsa-- oh, that puts a shudder through  _ her _ that makes her clit pulse hard.

She flares her nostrils, and he understands he's to meet her eyes, her personality projecting onto his mind regardless of his former ego. When she's satisfied that he's paying attention, she growls, "This ain't A-List Chippendale yet, buddy. You'd better give me A-List  _ something _ or you're going to hurt!"

"Kill… you… like…"

Sarah grows weary of his nonsense. She lets his right arm go, and tears his top-- bodysuit and trenchcoat off of him completely in a single digging rip. He's so slow his fingers don't even start to close before she grabs them again.

"I  _ said _ , show me the Chippendales or you will really learn what crying's for, Shark Jaws!" she snarls. Shaking her head and flaring her nostrils, she flexes all along her chest and upper arms.

As he stares at bouncing breasts and the pump of banded pectoral muscles in shock, she hisses, "And keep the fucking smile  _ on! _ "

Then, lightly, just lightly-- so very, very lightly-- taps him in the stomach with her knee before returning to fondling his dick with it.

He doesn't scream this time, though the impact did leave pretty purple bruises under his grayish skin. She took care to knock the wind out of him, making him cough and gag and fall forward-- smooshing his own package bit against the impenetrable heft of her thigh. Predictably enough, it makes him whimper as loudly as he can-- not much-- and jerk himself back straight up.

"Get that belly rolling and lips curling, boy," Sarah orders. "Or the next thing that goes is your left arm. You don't need that to look pretty for me. As for killing me…"

This time, she spits on his chest, the force of it sizzling and branding the splatter temporarily as it evaporates. Another scream-- but this time, it's done while he frantically tries to obey, rolling and flexing his stomach, slim abs moving over his thick midsection. Poorly.

Shark Jaws' smile, on the other hand, actually gets a little flutter in her heart-- and cunt. After all, that cheery little grin is pulled back so wide in panic, pain, and fear it's adorable. She nods manically towards his mouth, and leans in to lick  _ his _ lips.

"Good," she coos, breath hot over him while the little electrical jolts of pleasure his terror brings sets her whole body flexing lightly.

Just that tiny bit, and already, he doesn't look just lithe and slender, but smooth and barely toned. Complete with that smile, he might as well be her tiny dancer. His abs shift up and then push down, all out of order, but honestly, it's the obedience that gets her juicing and her lips curling back Hungrily.

_ I'm willing to forgive the lack of A-list he's got that  _ means _ something for me. The taste of him trying to dance like this! _ It gets her juicing, her jaw dropping slightly while she moans, "Mmff, that's a start, baby!"

Sarah licks her lips again, gray eyes flashing as she slowly flexes her bulky thigh. The tightly-packed grooves and massively developed bulges begin to squeeze and caress Shark Jaws' dick as he thrashes around, trying to roll his stomach around. "Yeah. Shit, kill? You haven't killed one of us, pipsqueak."

Panting a bit as the despair makes him quaver all the harder-- truly making his otherwise wretched body-dance delectable. "You  _ sucker-punched _ a gal in the cunt who was givin' you a chance to earn a place at her side. I  _ am _ going to sell your ass to her for a half an hour or two… but don't worry, I'll make her promise not to kill you first."

That freezes Shark Jaws in his place. No more stupid dancing, no more sexy shivering. But to give the acrobatic hulk credit, he keeps smiling for her.

Besides, Sarah knows how to get him moving again. Muscles, pain, and humiliation. The first hers, the others his. Just like it should be for any man in her collection.

She leans forward on her knee, digging it into the security door with her weight. This slides it down a bit, making her squirming, tantalizing prey start to drop down onto her leg. Not so painfully as he could.

Sarah leans in against him further. Her voluptuous melons spread heavily over his oh-so-metahuman combination of stocky build yet slender scale; her nipples so hard they begin to leave red marks on his skin  _ through _ her top. "Oh, yeah-- you squirm so good, pretty boy."

Sucking on her lower lip, she nods, mostly to herself. "Pretty boy, with pretty eyes, and a pretty ass," she says softly. "Pretty squeals too. Heh."

Kissing along his jaw, she giggles as his cock starts to stiffen against the bodysuit's tight crotch pocket. Without the cup in the way, he's free to stiffen out, the blue-and-white coloration such a cute squeeze over a decently shapely rod. She hums at him more, continuing her kisses up from the jaw to just below the ear.

Which she then grabs in her teeth and yanks hard to the side, making him yelp again, before releasing it to forcefully flutter her tongue over his ear. He squirms-- but doesn't even try to move his head from her licking.

When she's done marking Shark Jaws with her saliva, she groans. "And that's why you're gonna be safe when I rent ya out for… y'know, whatever the other girls have that  _ I _ want."

The idea makes her pant again, her huge thighs squeezing together like she has him between them already. Because they'll know…  _ I'm _ the one who will get the pleasure of breaking you-- just like I'm going to break your spine and make you heal from it."

"What?"

"Just like I'm going to be the one to suffocate you and then force you back awake."

"No!"

"Just like I'm going to be the first one to  _ really _ rape you. Pop your various cherries the way that poor woman couldn't before you decided to be a little bitch about being used as a seat cushion." She grabs his jaw before he can protest again; her thumb and forefinger "help" him stretch his smile near the breaking point.

Sarah looms over him, fat breasts squishing over him as her shadow engulfs him. "Sitting on your face is going to be the least of what I do to you, Shark Jaws. Every day."

He whimpers into her hand, the fight temporarily out of him. "That's good, sweetie. Keep smiling for momma. You know what happens if I close my hand, right?"

A gurgle of panic follows that Sarah's sure she can take as an affirmative. "That's right! From Shark Jaws to Jello Jaws! But you want to avoid that, right?"

Another whining gurgle from Jello Spine. She pulls her hand back and he gasps. "Yes! Yes! I'll be good!"

"Ooh, I know you will," she groans, flexing both of her thighs. Despite the odd position, she's able to show off her quadriceps' enormity, thick bulges curving out and up with ripples of powerful flesh connecting it all.

She chews on her lower lip a bit, using microcontrol to squeeze just a small part of her quads. He yelps and shudders as his barely-clothed cock is crammed into the groove created between one flexing head and the next, the individual fibers massaging her newly acquired male meat someowhat  _ vigorously _ .

"Where's my smile, pretty toy?" she purrs, then giggles as, sobbing, the "big" metahuman grinds his jaw back nice and far, just to smile wider for her. "Keep it that way, you little cuntlicker. Unless you're using your mouth for more important purposes-- like, y'know…"

Sarah giggles, and groans, glutes tightening up and bubble butt jiggling. "Licking my cunt," she adds after the laughter finishes. The flex moves around her hips to her thighs, tightening both-- to his poor dick's distress-- and straight to her tunnel, clenching around where his cock should be.

He holds the smile, despite the agony!  _ I'm so proud of him, and it is such a pretty smile! Pity there's no way he's going to avoid a full service bitchmaker backbreaker. _

"Don't break me!" Shark Jaws yelps. Waiting a few moments, she hears the proof he's going to need the full treatment.

Silence.

She tilts her head to the left, giving him a sympathetic look. "I hear you, little boy, I really do," she coos. "But you have to see it from my point of view."

"Wha… I mean… I'll be good, really!"

"Um-- maybe," Sarah chuckles. She flexes her broad arms again, making her triceps stand out and tower with potency as her palms force into his wrists. "I need your pain to  _ feed _ , baby," she purrs. 

Yowling, he doesn't manage words, but she's too entertained to bother shutting him up. Her deep rumbles cut right through his panicked whimpers anyway. "So I'll leave you enough regen to heal, and then I'll do it again, and again… interrupted by fucking your brains out."

Her long, powerful legs snap back down to the ground, and she lets his right arm free, her left hand grabbing his already  _ quite _ juicy nuts and running her thumb firmly over them. Just firmly, really-- she doesn't even make him scream.

More like close to cream. He's groaning and rutting shamelessly against her hand like the slut he is. "Yeah. Really make these balls blow. All you gotta do is scream like the A-list bitch you are, heal, and I'll keep raping you. Whatcha say?"

"N...nngh… Ah…." His eyes are starting to bug out again, this time from pleasure. Drool falls from his lips that she has to softly yank his prick around so it splatters him, not her wrist, but she does it as a part of the nut-fondling moment so he barely even feels the force.

She frowns. "I want a verbal agreement, little man. If you can't manage that…"

Sarah takes her hands away, and slaps his bare belly back with a light flick of her finger. It leaves a long red welt as he gasps. "No! Don't break me! I'll be good! I'll be good!"

She shakes her head. "That's not what I want to hear, Sharky. You want the other option, do you?"

"Yes!" he wails. It's ridiculous, really. All that gray skin, pulling so taut over the male musculature beneath, you could crack an egg.

Pitiful. When  _ she _ flexes, just being near something fragile like a bank security vault or that destroyer in the harbor… Well, cracks are the least of what happens.

Sarah shrugs. "If you _ really _ want, I can snuff you. Baldy like you, I figure I either cram you between my legs until your head pops, or squeeze you between my breasts until them baby blues of your pop right out!"

Tilting her head to the right and screwing up her jaw, she shakes her head as he sobs and wails. Smiling all through it, having learned his lesson. "Nah, you look like a leg man to me, So-- you get to be my pain slut, or you get to die in agony to get me off good! What do you say?"

She licks her lips again, and knows you're not supposed to give a bitch an option you don't want them to take. Sarah hasn't killfucked anyone yet, and she's not sure she wants to. It's such a waste, "hard" men being good to beat and hard to find and all that.

But so far, every one of them has chosen to be exactly what she wants. She sees it in the slump of his shoulders, the wilting dip in his traps, and she's even starting to recognize the way the brain changes when they give in. Maybe it's like the smiling thing.

Eventually, they all just give Sarah what she wants.

"No! Life! Life, I want to live, I want you to rape me so I can live, I'll be good so you don't have to break me, no, no, no!"

_ Fucking hell, boy, you finally start getting my pussy going and you just want it all over at once? So like a fucking man. So like fucking a man. _

"Gonna hold you to that as your word… or rather, that you'll try. See, that's another reason why I gotta break you, honey." Shark Jaws stares at her in shock and confusion, running into horror as she explains the facts of his new life.

_ Rude, really. I'm being so giving! But that's just like a pain-slut… or a pain-slut to be. _

_ Greedy for the hurt. _ And greedy he is, it seems. At long last, he does it.

" _ Why? _ " The agonized, terrorized scream is enough to get Sarah off. She slams her lips into his again, her tongue down his throat as her pussy gushes, squeezing and clenching. Since his poor, weak prick isn't in her yet, she doesn't have to restrain her strength, letting her core have its fun.

The echoes of the climax sends her pecs pumping, and hence her tits pounding. As the broad, striated layers of strength slam tight on her chest, her breasts start to expand-- but not the soft way. Instead, they become harder and hard, forcing his ribcage to start to creak and bend, all of it on the edge of cracking.

She keeps it there throughout the kiss, her tongue fucking the inside of his mouth, thrusting back and forth and forcing him to submit to it again. It's so funny-- he sucks on it without having to even be told. Like he likes having a dominant woman's tongue used on him.

_ Of course he does. They all do, men and women, metas and normals, tough guys and completely spineless wimps alike. _ She's aware that her own powers have something to do with it-- and her Hungers are what are telling her they're  _ all _ completely spineless wimps.

She just doesn't care.

"That's why," she purrs, sweat soaking her tanktop and showing off her pale-skinned tits the way her femmecum does to her pants. She leans back and grabs him by the throat.

Chewing her lower lip for a moment, she lets him make a few confused wheezes like a question. "So stupid, baby," she laughs, letting his nuts go and grabbing his thigh. Lightly-- not even enough to bruise.

Sarah swings the "huge" man-- barely an NFL dainty of a linebacker scaled up-- up into the air, her grip digging into his thigh's weak muscles, leaving her handprint; his neck rattling in her grasp. "Simple."

"You didn't say please," she tells the wailing Shark Jaws. Flipping him around as lightly as a tablecloth, she holds him high in the air…

And then she slams him down, hellish glee spreading over her face, lips curling back while her eyes grow wide with desire. Her thigh is so broad that the bottom, small, and much of his mid-back fits across it when she hurls him down. She kneels for herself, as she kneels for no man, giving him a longer fall onto the impervious, taut rigidity of her quads.

The scream goes on for  _ minutes _ as she holds him there; after the first, she drowns it out, her own celebratory climax in full swing. It's so hard. Not ignoring his scream-- he doesn't matter-- but remembering to concentrate enough.

After all, if she suppresses his regeneration, she won't get to play with him again. And again. And again.

Until he isn't any use anymore; or at least, any fun.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pain is what Hunters feed on. Sex, too, but it's pain they scramble to fill; usually their own. But so many-- including Sarah Miller-- are finding it very difficult to find someone dangerous enough to hurt them but not too dangerous to approach.
> 
> So they desperately wallow in their own madness and others' pain. The madness of Masochism Starvation tearing at their psyches and convincing them that some overfill might, somehow, splash agony back on them. It doesn't, but the disappointment feeds...
> 
> A little.
> 
> So now that is Shark Jaws' lot. A huge, lazy bully turned into a mewling coward, and with his spine shattered precisely over her thigh, transmuted into a pain-loving muscle-slut. As Sarah manipulates his regeneration to alter his pain and pleasure input, her pleasure makes her flex.
> 
> And flex.
> 
> And flex, on and on, shredding her clothing in sheer delight at torturing her newest victim. His body, his mind, his everything are hers to torment for her own pleasure. So she does it again, and again.
> 
> And it never satisfies the final craving, but she tries it anyway.
> 
> What else can she do?

The Pulse played favorites, of course it did. Sara Russell is not one of its darling dearests, nor even towards the great middle of her race. In fact, she is-- as Hunters go-- a decided featherweight.

Which means, of course, that she is by far a favorite as compared to even Kryptonians and other supposedly S-tier entities of the old age. As a mere A-lister? Shark Jaws Miller hasn't a chance.

He thought he did; believing that as women, the Hunters couldn't possibly be  _ that _ tough. Despite his run-in with one that almost left him a slave in the first place, he convinced himself first, that he won in direct combat. Then, that he killed her. He believed it when he told Sarah.

Her laughter chased that belief from his head within moments. Then, like many a bully, he became merely a mewling coward, screaming for mercy. Desperate to avoid pain.

He probably should have remembered his manners. Sarah would have hurt him still, but only to humiliating extents. In just three days, she's already discovered she prefers teaching lessons only once.

Since she can always find other reasons to inflict pain. Things that aren't perfect irritate her. Sometimes she forgets to keep irritating things around, if she hasn't promised.

Her head lolls back and forth as she breaks Shark Jaws. Her breath puffs over him in short, shuddering pants. There's no part of him she doesn't molest.

Because he's hers, and because she can. "Yes!" she screams out, and again. " _ YES! _ Fucking little pain-slut! Scream for me, pretty boy!  _ SCREAM! _ "

With no point left to keeping her femmejuice-stained yoga pants, she starts to flex beneath the pinned Shark Jaws. Left leg and right, left quad and right, thigh and calves-- all the enormous muscularity begins to tense and pull out. A fresh new howl of utter agony leaves the regenerator's mouth in a high, almost whistling pitch as her hands force his throat down and his back further over her knee.

There's nothing even close to words in it, nor in her pleasured grunts. Her broad, bouncy butt squeezes in pulses, slapping the lush cheeks together again and again as her eyes vibrate and her moans increase again. She feeds and feeds, his pain and her orgasms commingling for the feast.

Her top isn't going to last much longer than her pants. Her nipples are already shredding through, and the more she flexes her pecs along with the rest, the bigger her breasts inflate out in front. Add that to what her traps are doing from behind, and, well.

Her tanktop is doing a pretty good imitation of Shark Jaws' spine.

His back would be broad-- to a human woman doing the same move. To Sarah Russell, his traps barely have the definition and development of her  _ calf _ . The quadriceps grinding his spinal cord to fragments and sending endless waves of pain through his vulnerable nerves? His whole back doesn't have the muscle mass, even if it's spread thin and broad.

She holds him through the flex. Tear after tear appears on her tight pants, revealing the pale, vibrating skin beneath. Shark Jaws is in no position to appreciate it.

He should, he really should. Her legs are beautiful things in their mega-amazonian heft. Crushing bulges with just a bit of crisp separation and grooving to make sure that even in their overabundance, they still perfectly fit the epitome of shapely, curvy thiccness.

"That's it, honey," Sarah purrs at him. "Fuck, I wish I could push you up to my mouth like this! I bet your cute little chest tastes so good when it spasms like that!"

Tear after tear accompanies the destruction of his spine; tears in her pants, tears from his cheek without end. Shreds flinder over the giantess' fist arcs and semispherical mass of her calves, dark fabric flying everywhere.

Just done in the key of muscle-- except for her ass. Shark Jaws isn't in a position to appreciate that yet, either, but she's squeezing her glutes tightly as she moans and pants, her cunt gushing beneath him. As she shoves his throat down to her right and his legs down to the left, the constant hyper-flexion forces his torso to stretch out broader and broader in an obscenely painful "table" position.

No-- he's being turned into a living altar to the power of a muscle goddess. Specifically, the muscle goddess to which he belongs, now and forever. Sarah Russell.

Though pain robbed him of the ability to speak within seconds of the minutes-long spinal destruction, now it's her turn. As in everything else, she's his superior, managing at least monosyllabic grunts of, "Yes!" and "Like that! Just like that!" a bit, but it becomes harder and harder to crow anything but, "Yes!" as her orgasms hit again and again.

Her pants don't survive much longer; even her ass starts to break through. With her glutes pumping out into hyper-expansion too, the curvaceous expanse of ass-fat atop shoves out… and out, eventually following the striated, broad lines of the muscles beneath more than her usual lush globes. It's too much for the rear of her pants, and the front tears against her clenching cunny as well.

The straps go on her tanktop, snapping with so much force it almost slashes straight through Shark Jaws' bodysuit. Her left strap is the worst; it hits his belly at about the same place she's shoving it all up with her knee.

Once her personal hymn of, "Yes-- ah… mmm…  _ UNF!I"  _ repeats a few times, she lets his throat and legs go. The final tatters of her pants flutter to the ground to either side, exposing pale skin over incredible muscularity and perfect, curvaceous definition. Her thigh is so broad that her screaming victim simply stays  _ atop _ it.

Sarah positioned him perfectly balanced in the middle, so perfectly balanced he will stay unless he can move himself. She tore his spine, crushed it in places, but all with similar accuracy; he's not moving his arms until his healing completes, but he feels all of the terrible agony from his mid-back up anyway. 

And so does she-- as pure orgasmic power. As Shark Jaws is left to heal, she lets his limbs flop free. Her right hand moves down to her soaked sex; her left, up to her heavy tit, tossing the remnants of her top away with it.

She loves pain, and she loves pleasure; her own no less on the latter, and not too much less on the former. Her fingers dig deep into her areola as her palm squeezes her thick nipple nearly as hard. She squeezes, and squeezes, and  _ squeezes, _ marking herself in purple and red and rapture.

"More for me, Shark Jaws!" she orders. "Suffer more for me, pretty boy-- I promise, if you can't find a way--" they never do, at least not the first time-- "I'll give you so many more."

To her sex, Sarah is kinder, but not much gentler. She plays with her clit for a bit, but in moments-- especially after looking over her flopping prize-- she can't help herself anymore. Three fingers thrust deep into the squeeze of her slit, forcing herself to accommodate her roughness yet again.

Drool runs from the top of her lip to the bottom; bright red arousal flushes from the top of her forehead to the tops of her tits, and all the way-- all the  _ long _ way-- to her flexing delts. Both nipples, the lightly crushed and the achingly lonely alike, throb and pulse almost as hard as her clit. " _ Fuck! _ " she roars as she sees Shark Jaws' nerves begin to re-knit.

She takes her time, thrusting her fingers back and forth inside her clenching wetness, while her other hand marks her own breast again and again. Her own pain never satisfies the way someone else's does-- not yet, anyway-- but she gets this bubbling, wrenching feeling inside herself if she doesn't. The rest of her mercy howls away into another orgasm.

_ So little time, each time. So little time. Will it ever stop? _

_ Do I want it to stop? _

Her broad hands come up to support Shark Jaws' far leg-- the near resting on her forearm-- and his neck. Not properly, not enough to completely reduce the agony of having to regrow bone improperly and to feel his nerves coming back online. She smiles down at him.

Every part of him is in induced agony, making Sarah's eyes go wide, chin tucking back against her corded neck. The way she holds him makes a mockery of his regeneration. His spinal cord is re-knitting, the discs re-forming, and every little post-orgasmic clench of her thigh makes the process alien from the man who first fell into her hands.

Every time her pussy quivers, she deliberately and directly changes the way his "healed" spine transmits sensations back to the brain. It's shaped by the flex and shudder of the big, rounded ridge of muscle just above her knee, pushing up from within a slightly smaller inverse-v of impossibly hard flesh. Webbed by its tertiary consorts, she jiggles his "big" body around ever-so-lightly, and makes him hers.

Shark Jaws' howls die to choked, hoarse coughing. Not because his pain is much less, but because his body can't devote as much energy to healing his throat as he screams it raw. Blindly following its base survival dictates, the preternatural embers of his regenerative talent concentrate on the spinal cord, trying desperately to save it.

And leash him even more to his new owner.

"See?" Sarah whispers. "I knew you could find new ways to suffer for me-- with just a little bit of help!"

Only sobs answer her, but she'll take it. Pleasuring his owner is polite, right? She thinks it does, and, well.

Other than that, Shark Jaws just doesn't matter anymore. Other than her pleasure, he simply is irrelevant, and she does love the way his dick has already started to respond inside the bodysuit. Long enough and for once  _ thick _ enough, his rebooted regeneration is paying off for  _ her _ .

_ Dunno if he'll still be able to cum. Might "have" to break his spine again, I like my drinks from a proper straw. Heeheheheheh. "Might." "Have." _

_ I do what I want, and only the ones who would do worse than me have the power to stop me. _ Posting her little vids got her an invitation to the Muscle Goddesses site. She never realized before just how many things there were you can do to a male body-- or a female one, for that matter.

So many things to try. But right now, her smooth, taut skin glistens with musk-laced sweat; the crinkly flesh of her nipples multiplies the goosepimple-like texture; and the ache of her sex's emptiness calls to her. "Time to wake up, pretty little boy."

Sarah reaches over and grabs his fat nuts, giggling; the shattered armor was no more barrier to her touch than it is to her sight. She isn't sure on most males that having bigger balls makes them have more stamina, or more potency, but these ones don't just virtually disappear in her hand, having some nice volume to them. It's a pity they're bald as his head, but the natural wrinkles both look and feel pleasing to her.

Deserving a reward.

So Sarah makes sure that the squeezing isn't harsh enough to damage their function for long. "Tell the truth," she laughs over his hoarse squealing. "You jerked it off to tapes of Wonder Woman beating the shit out of you that one time, didn't you? Or to when Aquaman did,  _ fishy _ ?"

He's not even conscious enough to complain about the gay crack, let alone answer her.  _ Good; the homophobia in so-called big, not-even burly, macho dudes bothers me. _ Sometimes, when she's well fed, she wonders why she even cares about things like that, except to season humiliation.

"Oh, right," Sarah tells his weakly insensate form. "Because when you're stereotypical, you  _ deserve _ punishment, and that makes it all the tastier. Especially when you know it."

_ Eheheheheh. Not like I'm going to let him out of my favorite visual entertainment anyway. Later, later, later. _

Her appetite for her own pain is diminished if not slaked; her appetite for his is pleasantly teased. But her appetite for fucking is barely whetted. So she fondles the juicy weight of his balls again. They fill, for her; his seminal vesicles perform their duty.

It makes her thigh shudder and tighten beneath Shark Jaws again. So much bigger than his legs; if he was turned parallel, would his waist be bigger than her thigh at all? "Not by much, my pretty ballerina-shark!" she whispers to him.

"Not by much." But Sarah's attention is turned and tuned on the part of him of the most use until his tongue has been trained properly. Tall and stiff, the over-fed veins pulsing against over-regenerated flesh, his dick looks extra plump like this.

"Big enough to fill-- for a little while." Her other hand comes up to stroke the back of his battered, bald head. "I get a little extra-squeezy when I'm happy, you see… And you might finally be able to make me happy, Minnow Jaws!"

"For a little while."

The precum dribbling down his fat, blunt tip begins to soak his foreskin and slick the uncurved shaft. Her thumb rubs faster over his-still clad sac, stroking the slick material over his sensitive flesh. Swiftly, Shark Jaws' adorable little muscles begin to spasm all over while his nuts' nerves resonate with themselves faster, sending frantic pleasure up his healing spine.

The jolt of it, carrying the pleasure so swift it hurts, makes precum start to  _ fountain _ now, geysering over his stiffened shaft. All so messy against the confines of the bodysuit.  _ Always so messy, but it could be worse! _

In fact, from her point of view, she's made both his cock,  _ and _ his spine so much better.  _ Speaking of-- oh good, that looks like it'll be in working order for when it's time for him to cum. _ His prick, anyway; his spine's a bit shaky still, and his brain isn't precisely back in waking order.

But those pretty blue eyes, decorated in red from all Shark Jaws' weeping, shoot open, and his pupils are mostly focusing. Time to play. Her tongue strokes out over her lips and she thrusts her hugely muscled chest and its still-huger tits up and forward. "Wakey-wakey, Mister Minnow!"

_ Maybe I should just stick with Shark Jaws; his name doesn't matter any more than he does! _ Broad and round and lushly fat, her breasts jiggle out happily, while the powerful pecs behind them extend a bit. The painful tightness around her heart eases, a little.

His theoretically broad chest heaves, skin tightening and slacking over pecs that had impressed her at the trial and now look so skinny. They're just big enough-- bigger than his fellow men-- to be pleasing. He sucks in air, coughing and shuddering around in her brutal embrace.

Hand reaching out for his shaft, Shark Jaws tries to jolt up, but just the pressure of flexing the lower heads of the muscles along her wrist seizes a fold of skin on the back of his neck, and the entire strength of his torso is utterly overmatched.

But his fingers do manage to lightly caress the adequately hefty bulge of his cock, fingertips bringing the unreality of what she's done to him home to roost in a shower of lube that completely soaks the still-clad shaft.

"Yeah," Sarah chortles at his surprised whine. "You would  _ think _ a tough guy wouldn't have a raging hard-on after having his spine shredded but…"

She leaves it at that for a few moments of agonized flopping. Weakly flailing, Shark Jaws tries to reassure himself that sandpaper isn't wrapped around his cock as it feels the motion of the air around him. That it isn't being jerked off through that sandpaper by some sort of handjob-savant.

_ May have left him a bit over-sensitive when I made the first changes. Ooops. Oh well, I can always break it back. _ But she doesn't elaborate on her insinuations.

She can't really lie well anymore; it feels like promises broken. Honestly, she's noticed that when she's doing it-- and especially when she's cumming--  _ every _ guy she's tortured for her amusement and Hunger keeps an erection throughout it all. She's never done it to someone with a spine even temporarily severed before, but…

She's never had a regenerator to play with. "Gonna have so much fun playing with you, baby," she croons. "You should have just told me you were a masochist. I try to keep in mind when someone's lying about asking for mercy. Lemme just let your little thing loose, now."

That gets Shark Jaws crying and sobbing wordlessly-- the "lying" and "little" bits both. Amusing! "Oh, hush up," she sneers.

"I  _ said _ I'll keep it in mind," she pretends to huff while shredding his pants with her thumbnail. "It's almost like you don't want me to hurt you."

He inhales sharply as the air rushes in. Sarah lets out a happy little giggle, deeper than his weeping through her far-deeper chest. "Ooh, it  _ does _ look prettier in the light. You don't really need clothes after all, do you?"

"Please!" he moans, and then just drools, flopping back. She smirks; the so-proud tough guy doesn't even know whether or not he really wants her to stop,either.

"Don't worry," Sarah laughs. "I'll make this… special." He's not regenerated enough to distinguish  _ types _ of pain, so she smirks nastily and uses the same motion to open up some welts on his inner thigh.

As predicted, he begins to sob and whimper wordlessly once more, making her pussy light up again with sadistic pleasure. "If you keep trying to earn more pain, I'll be more  _ precise _ … And take away your ability to heal."

His cries abruptly die off into liquid gurgles, jaws clamping shut. They're interrupted only by a deep grunt as she rips off the rest of his boxers, too. Since she doesn't give a shit--  _ har _ \-- about his asshole, yet, she doesn't bother taking the wedgie out.

"There we go," she breathes, giggling a bit at his stiffie just to further grind his ego into dust. In truth, while even now he's not enough to satiate, he's got the second biggest dick in her collection, not counting toys.

_ And Andy's like fifty kilograms soaking wet. I mostly just use him to humiliate the rest. _ Her pretty little cockslut is just so pathetically grateful not to suffer at her muscles or her muscular pussy's non-existent mercy.

In fact, he's so eager to find a less  _ crushing _ way of pleasing her that he's very quickly learned to be good at both giving her head, and being a bratty little bitch when she makes the others suck him off. Shark Jaws, now… He has no such excuses for avoiding her greedy snatch.

"Not a one," she says out loud.  _ Like he matters like he matters I'm so Hungry I'M SO HUNGRY! _

Sarah has to speed up to wipe away the tears before he sees them. That wouldn't do. That wouldn't do at all.

_ His fault his fault his fault. _

Sarah doesn't particularly try to restrain her hatreds and Hungers anymore. She's not really sure she  _ can _ , except by promising a better feeding later. So for example, while she's not going to crush various bits of his anatomy the way she wants to…

Like the bits to hand… The pythonic mass of her left arm shifts; her fingers close around his prick, feeling the juicy, fragile flesh begin to jerk and wriggle, feeling the slickness of his precum already marking it. Compelling, in its way; she hungers for sex, Why call it disgusting?

She wants it anyway. Shark Jaws is keeping his jaws shut, jerking back and forth on the fulcrum of her quadriceps. The tight grooves of her forearm keep his skull in place; the absolute grasp of her fist keeps his dick in place.

Sarah raises her chin, flares her nostrils. His scent, the scents he's touched, the changes that have been made since she fucked with his regeneration, the places he's been--- she tastes it all. And smiles.

"Hi, Shark Jaws," she coos lightly. "It occurs to me, this is awful stereotypical."  _ Don't laugh don't laugh don't laugh. _

It's certainly the stereotypical scenario, when the various champions of the old world fall into the laps of their new mistresses. The rippling thews of her right forearm don't even need fingers, let alone much leverage, to keep his head in place. The bulge on her left forearm, popping out with its coiled strands reaching for wrist, is bigger than than his thigh now; if she wasn't deliberately bracing her fingers against themselves, well…

Stereotypical ending in his head; boring one in hers. 

It only takes a second and a half of sliding her hard fingers over more and more of his hardon for him to get the point. "Arrnn-- nNnanngh…" Or maybe not, since babbling is all that comes out of his throat.

Sarah jerks rather more out of his delicious prick just by sliding her fingers upwards. When did it become delicious? After she hurt it, and made it hers, so now she's petting it. He howls again, trying to arch his still-damaged back and failing.

The thickness tries to jerk in her hands, arrested by her fist. But the rest swells slightly-- not an orgasm, he hasn't earned that-- and his eyes roll back in his head as just the subtle scrape of her fingers lacerates him with pleasure. Precum fountains out almost as hard as a climax, some splashing across his chest, some over his lips, some over his nose.

"So stupid," she says with a roll of her eyes; the spluttering and the attempts to squirm his viced head rather than let the flecks of his pre drool down and over his lips.

"You really can't avoid it-- so why should I?" Her head and eyes lean towards his cock again. Her hand squeezes tighter, and tighter; the new "normal" in his head making the pleasure inexorable, even as the sense of pressure-- unceasing-- increases.

Warmth on Sarah's hand. Infinite-seeming little fibers; infinite-seeming connections. From one point of view, the pulse and throb of his fat length is neither hot nor cold anyway; warm, perhaps-- warmer than the air, than the background media through which even the air floats-- or perhaps it is burning, the gradations in her sensory suite picking up the difference between the cute cock in her fist

It's not because she has any argument against the part of her that says he deserves being crushed and she deserves the satisfaction of crushing him.

It's because she can do that any time, and right now she has other fun in mind.

Finally, Shark Jaws whines, "No-- yes--- I mean--" He coughs again, and she laughs.

"It's so stereotypical, but no, you don't want me to rip your dick off?" she suggests. "You're a--" she snorts and giggles a bit more-- "You're what men called big and brawny, I'm what the reality is; you're an old school supervillain, I'm a Hunter, you just  _ know _ this ends with you in a bloody wreck, right?"

"Yes, please, no, please, no, please, nooooo…"

The "unrelenting, remorseless, unpitying monster," wasn't that what the prosecutor called Shark Jaws? "Amoral, viewing society's forbiddance laws not so much as irrelevant as a list of what  _ to _ do, the only way to deal with him is harsh punishment, in full."

_ You didn't seem to like it when that Korean girl-- who was, what, just shy of three meters?-- applied harsh punishments to your ass, in full daylight, did you, mister prosecutor? I wonder if you said that about her, or if you just looked as rapable in that suit and sneer to her as you did to me? _

_ Anyway. _

Sarah's "monster," now is babbling with fear at her little hypothetical. In point of fact, like most Hunters, she's not exactly tearing off body parts left and right. Even the ones who seem to need lethal orgasms generally go for full body damage as a  _ part _ of using their prey-- male or female--for their purpose in life.

Why remove their ability to perform such functions, unless that's what amuses you  _ specifically _ right now? But Shark Jaws doesn't know that, and she's not promising it's true. Her broad smile goes broader, strong chin shifting lightly as she stares down past her nose at him.

"Well, I don't know," Sarah purrs, flexing her pecs slowly. Bigger than his head with change to spare-- each-- her chest muscles carry with them individually more strength than millions of Shark Jaws-es. But she's using them to "test" him, pumping power and delicious strain into them, tightness that expands, thumps, individual striations bulging out in sequence, each entire muscle swelling out to its normal maximum, then quickly dropping as the other ripples out into an absolutely gorgeous display of body-sculpting strength.

Men and women, heroes and villains, powerful psychics and brutes so mindless that there's nothing to control-- everyone gets lost in the muscles of a Hunter. Staring at an endless array of idealized form and function held in flex or even at rest is hypnotic enough. The soft trap while the Hunter's alien beauty hammers the mind to achieve endless desire.

When they're in motion, in use? Fascination is far too light a word. Except…

"Except the tits,  _ really _ , Sharky?" she asks with a half-sigh. Tightening and pumping like this makes it hard to really relax and let her lungs loose, but even trying it adds more and more to the force dragging him away from properly adoring her muscles. The succulent, rippling softness that compromises the most  _ forward _ part of the Hunter's hard sell on the lust of anyone who sees her.

Her tits. Sarah was a personal trainer, gym staff, before the Pulse. Her mother and her sisters had run towards the average, so with the amount of calories she burnt, she barely needed a bra at all.

Now she still doesn't need a bra, but that's because of the regeneration and post-superhuman strength.

Sarah's breasts are broad and rounded but with just enough conical direction to keep a perfect balance of out and forward and all around. Jiggly-squishy, obscenely illustrating every breath she takes and word she speaks in a mountainous kind of dance. And it's not like he's not going to be learning to love her smothering softness--

Not to mention the harder side of that softness--

"But, really," she huffs, continuing pump her pecs back and forth, making her luscious melon-mountains jiggle and shake like volcanos over faultlines ready to blow. Of course, her chest can output vastly more energy than all the faultlines of earth going at once, and her tits can absorb the same, so perhaps, it's better to say the Ring of Fire shakes like her titties.

His eyes follow, a bit weakly and his pupils are starting to lose coherence, but they're definitely tracking her breasts's bobble and not the stunning perfection of the flex past them. "If you can't even get  _ that _ far out Boy-ness, how can I trust you to take my deal?" The more of his precum that splatters into her fist and the more cum that backs up in those cute balls of his, the less of his brain's available to "negotiate" with her.

"I…" he groans, and then screams when her pinkie flips out, jabbing his rather more fragile softness right where the meaty orbs' sack tugs away from his captive cock. "You! You-- you… always you, you… Nnnn… please, let-- whatever you want, I'll do it!"

She jabs harder, experimentally. Shark Jaws hasn't shown a lot of brilliance yet, but sometimes the smart ones try too hard to think of the angles, to think of ways to get the edge over  _ her. _ Sometimes, the ones soft in the head can bounce their way to understanding faster.

Sarah is planning on taking what she wants anyway. But it makes her abs tighten and every short breath of air taste sweeter, when her prey stops fighting. A replacement for the-- frankly limited-- thrills of the chase.

Shark Jaw's hips and legs are finally working under what might be loosely called his control again, the latter kicking wildly about while the former gyrate up, trying to fuck against the immovable force of her fist. He doesn't even get her to reduce the grasp, just sort of jamming what little free plumpness of his prick there is against her.

The way his nerves fire, it must be so painful. Of course, the way her pussy all but purrs in pleasure at her brain, it definitely is. Her clit especially seems to just spark with sensation when they hurt themselves for her.

But to Sarah's surprise, he gets it. "Whatever… mmmm!" he whines, tears falling almost as fast as a fresh new splurt of precum over his face and chest, "Whatever you want that you… ahnnn! That you leave me able to do! Just please… hurt me less, please!"

"Oh… mmmHMMM--  _ YEAH _ , little cutie!" Sarah moans as the climax strikes. Just a little bit, warming up from the bottom of her stomach, barely making her abs squeeze or her petals flutter, but the submission is so tasty…!

Her face flushes, heat and arousal lining her cheeks and forehead. She lets the back of Shark Jaws' head free, the dome of muscle below her elbow relaxing slightly while the small grooves begin to separate into merely huge lines of strength. Then her hand comes up, almost trembling, to stroke his tear-- and pre-- stained cheeks.

Rubbing the two tasty treats together, she streaks them over his face, marking him with his suffering. "Goood," she groans at last. "So here's what's gonna happen. This cute stiffie?" she asks.

Shark Jaws can't respond; she's clenching his tool just a bit too hard and making him grunt and wheeze in stunned pain while the long rod tries to release… and can't. "Don't worry about it," she coos. "It won't go again unless  _ my _ pussy or  _ my _ hand or, hell, I'm kinda thirsty…"

She clamps her right hand over the top of his head, and hauls him up to set his sadly insufficiently-spanked ass in place. Right on the rough-hewn development of her thigh; before he can stagger or sway, she starts to lap up the mixed fluids, and purrs, "Or  _ my _ tongue releases you. You see, you  _ want _ me, Shark Jaws," she giggles.

"... Do," he admits, whispering and shaking back and forth.

Sarah squees, letting his head go to tear off the rest of his clothes in a few short, sharp motions with her other hand. She licks up his new tears and giggles while he rests on her knee like the good little bitchboy he is. "I mean, you want me to stick around, Sharky," she chuckles, and kisses him fiercely on the lips.

Her tongue invades his mouth. Thicker and longer than his organ, her moist, dark pink tongue strokes around every part-- tongue tangled, teeth tasted, prodding at the gums, the back of the throat, it's so nice feeling his gagging over her tongue-- and she just enjoys the fresh taste of ownership.

"Because this-- isn't going away," she tells him, abruptly releasing her stony grip on his far-softer hardon. "Not getting back to your wimp-limp mode, not going splurt with anything but, well--"

Sarah giggles again, her head and neck rocking unsteadily before she leans in to lap up more of his precum. "Just that. You get nothing, until I'm pleased. And maybe I'll even let you go back to your old, boring normal. Hear me?"

_ It'll hurt even worse along the way, and you won't want to, but, hey. I might "let" it happen. _

"I hear you," he groans, beautiful blue eyes bugging out just like she had a finger to his throat and letting it sink into the windpipe and-- And she shakes her head out, making the blue beauties tear up again.

"Oh, that was for  _ me _ , not you, don't worry!" she tells him, and pats him on the back. Not lightly enough; he pitches forward, wailing again as the  _ SLAP _ impacts and slams him down to the ground by her feet.

Sarah shrugs. "Oops," she laughs, and leans back over to her other leg, kicks him over onto his back, and nods. Ignoring the cracking sound as much as the screaming. It's not like she damaged his regeneration this time.

Much.

"Let's get started," she moans. "I'm so  _ empty _ , Shark Jaws. And you're going to fill… or fail, forever. Just try to be  _ interesting _ , at least _." _


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shark Jaws had the easy life. Strong enough to do what he wanted, and just cunning enough not to get the notice of the truly powerful, he lived a rotating life between prison, his hide-outs, and his next score. Anyone who cared enough to stop him wasn't really powerful enough to hurt him; he just knew when to put on the right performance.
> 
> Then came the Pulse, and, unfortunately, despite said low cunning...
> 
> He didn't move with the times. He stuck his bald head out... and now he belongs to the Drives-crazed Hunter named Sarah Russell. She is not willing to permit him such laziness, and she has demands.
> 
> Well, now that he's prey-- her prey-- she intends to make full use out of him. The steel-haired former fitness instructor and current beautiful behemoth has broken his spine and let heal precisely wrong to mix the signals of pleasure and pain for him-- and now her pussy is hungry, too.
> 
> Time to make him fill-- or fail. She'll have her fun, either way.

Shark Jaws Miller has been many things and could have been others. A lazy metahuman of incredible power, he might have been quite a terror, or at least, an ally to terrors. His personal obsession with his own comfort and self-satisfaction, combined with a deliberately narrow view of the world-- especially in the areas of "innocent bystanders," and "collateral damage"-- made sure that "hero" would not have ever been among the list.

Except perhaps on the Suicide Squad. And for very, very loose definitions of hero. But the power he wielded would have meant he gained the attentions of the vicious and the powerful, been forced into cosmic games for the fate of Earth, the Universe, perhaps everything.

But so long as he did not exert himself too much, nor fight too hard when confronted by local heroes, his mind remained unburnt and unchallenged. His soul stayed in his body and he gained no other passengers. His past was no more the subject of inquiry or alteration than any other metahuman.

Perhaps lazy, then, was not the right word, so much as content.

Wicked, abusive, destructive; more than occasionally lethal, but content.

Then the Pulse came. Might-have-beens left the picture. Definitions of power changed.

Shark Jaws' perspective did not change as fast as his position; certainly not as fast as his definitions.

For one, being able to deadlift tons in the triple digit range, with concomitant toughness and regeneration no longer defines a man as a potential member of the most powerful class of actors on the world stage.

For another, being a man at all now defines him as  _ prey _ . He should have acted accordingly. He has not.

Instead, he has treated himself as though he was still a hidden super-predator, swimming just below the surface of social awareness.

He is not.

Now, he is the prey of Sarah Russell. Just looking at him, and how weak he is, makes her so very, very hungry to do so much worse than she has planned. "So breakable, Sharky," she purrs, strutting up to his prone form, broad hips shimmying with each step.

"I'm going-- I'm obeying you-- I--" The babble sends shudders down his contextually slender frame. He's honestly big enough she wonders if she'll be able to remember how weak his weakness actually is.

_ All it would take is one extra squeeze… _ Sarah reaches up with her left big toe, bouncing his adequately fat testicles around and making him shudder. His legs, really quite stocky for a man, close around her foot instinctively as he whimpers in pain.

She barely notices, other than the delicious scent of his tears and precum beading appropriately. So she decides not to care; she's spent enough time prepping him as it is. It's time for her fun.

"Bounce, bounce, bounce," she chuckles, continuing to toy with his sore balls. To caress them one moment and dig her toenail in the next.

They're her pretty balls, and she's taking them with her when she goes home-- one way or another.

Watching him rut his hips in confusion is nearly as much of a treat as his agonized submission in the first place. The pleasure and pain warping through his nerves leaves him unable to tell whether he should be trying to shrink his vulnerable groin from her abuse… Or grind back on top of her toenail to get more of the addicting endorphin load.

"So much fun," Sarah giggles. "But like I said… time to fill, or fail."

She pulls her foot out from between his feeble legs' so-called squeeze, and stomps it next to his flat, vulnerable six-pack. "Boing!" He bounces up, slapping his limbs and head around but not getting disturbed from where she wants him.

Gritting her teeth, Sarah closes her eyes in a pre-Pulse reflex; the Drive pushing her to more and more cruelty rewarding her with a fresh rush of femmejuices, splattering their musky way over his groin as she steps down. Anticipation is a hell of a drug. So is power.

Her body's in half a lunge forward, so she decides to give her little bitch a show. Licking the broad sweetness of her lips, Sarah curls her enormous arms towards each other under even more enormous breasts, and flexes hard. The breasts bounce and her biceps bulge, and her bitch falls back into a muscle-hypnotized trance.

Drip after drip, splash after splash, her body's overproduction of arousal fluids marks him, leaving the signs of her ownership-- not that she intends to let him walk free enough for other Hunters to find ever again! Shuddering and whimpering, jaw slack as his gaze is imprisoned by her upper body power pose, her plaything can't even gyrate his hips, just jerk himself around in small, sharp jolts.

Oh, his precum flows and the pretty fatness of his cock twitches, gravity tugging his foreskin down to reveal more of her prize's turgid, gray-pink cockflesh. Long and straight; she'd prefer a little curve for more action, but it's cute enough for her purposes. And just as helpless as the rest of him.

With her right heel back and her left foot forward, she begins to flex from her thighs down. Her powerful hamstrings, pushing out hard and heavy on the left, are hidden from Shark Jaws' vision except in profile. But as she stretches her right leg back, her quadriceps' maze of giant muscle masses and long, hard cables yanks his attention right off her bouncing tits and tightened arms.

Sarah laughs at his moan, escaping simultaneous to precum self-lubricating for her heat. "You  _ are _ a lifelong muscle slut, aren't you? Fuck, there used to be so much debate about how many of you enjoyed getting the shit beat out of you…"

She can't help but giggle for a bit. Then she licks her lips and purrs, "Mmm, baby, I'm going to make  _ those _ dreams cum true again and again…"

The poor bastard is shaking in place, spasming, beneath her, but he's not trapped by any application of her mega-amazonian muscle against his body. No, he's held in a kind of flailing half-paralysis from the mere  _ existence  _ of her fantastically beautiful muscles forcing in upon his mind. Her already heavily striated calves grow, like almost toothy-edged basketballs, and the left one is starting to grind against his frail super-strong abdomen…

But it's still the physical representation of her strength that holds her Sharky. Drool spills over the side of his mouth as his bright blue eyes alternate between dull and pinpoint sharp, his path out of the mental maze of her definition lost with every beat of her heart. Each time the veins pulse and she squeezes rhythmically, he's drawn to a different aspect of perfected feminine muscle.

In moments, she can see the neurological changes and hormonal surges she's come to love nearly as much as screams of pain. For Shark Jaws Miller, the outside world is gone. There is his mistress, but more importantly, there are his mistress' muscles, and he must learn every last groove and bulge.

His quest is failed seconds later, when the moist heat of Sarah's vulva descends upon him. He howls, arching his back and jostling the straight, veiny heft of his cock. It's too late to disrupt her conquest of his dick just like it's far too late to escape her power over his mind.

The slap of her broad palm leaves a red handprint on his chest, outlined in bruise; and the sudden grip of the powerful muscles covered by the pretty pussy squeeze his tip harshly.

Sharky's wails just make her laugh all the more, tinged with moans and happy little gasps. The sudden gush from within her impatient vaginal tunnel coats his cock entirely, quickly overproducing his precum's attempts. He's held immobile by her hand, while she just brings her other fingers down to press against her clit, rubbing its stiffness harshly over top of his gray-pink rod.

"Oooh," she groans as their mutual fluids swirl together. "You're gonna  _ need _ that, baby.

"You're big enough I don't have to squeeze too hard to feel you… but that just means I can get so much tighter!"

Sarah's fingers clench across the red-and-purple lines she already left. His ribs crack, and his breastbone with it, while above, she flexes her breasts out to bigger and bigger bulges. At the moment the cracks force him to scream, she takes what's hers.

Everything.

Her huge thighs spread out to either direction; one leg in extension, one leg flexed. Either shows the undulating power of enormous, deadly quads and their hamstring counterparts, the fractal web of tertiary muscles between them rolling and swelling to add to the overall muscle show. Not to mention the muscle  _ power _ .

Sharky howls and then howls again. Regeneration is permitted-- much to his agony. She's not keeping his chest broken now, but she's not moving her hand either, breaking and re-breaking his ribs and sternum as she takes his hefty, weak meat deep within.

And then  _ squeezes _ . Her hand moves away, pinning his shoulder down instead to let his chest heal. She doesn't need that anymore.

Instead, Sarah's powerful pussy wrings his veiny dick for all it can stand. Each new ripple of her inner muscles forces agony upon him again and again, and what little room he has to maneuver is surrendered up to her. The shock of dominant pleasure is so much better than anything he could ever give, but he's big enough and tough enough that he comes closer than most!

"Mine!" she groans, and her sex declares it so. Sweat runs from her temples, down over the sides of her face to her corded neck.

Panting, she rocks back and forth on him as he wails. "Fuck! My skinny little  _ bitch! _ "

Face blushing with shame as much as pleasure, Shark Jaws whines, "Ahhh!" She ignores it for the moment.

If nothing else, while  _ her _ sex is quivering and shuddering around his juicy-- but fragile-- rod, it's stifled utterly.

Her early controls are loosed, but only because with her tunnel around his prick, she can squeeze where his vas deferens needs squeezing, twist when his nerves need adjusting, and in general, as  _ her _ orgasm flows freely, her superior control of her body means that he has no bodily control at all.

It makes her groan and her already enormous nipples fatten further; she really is looking forward to having his mouth around them-- and stretched, and stretched….

"Feel that, slut?" she snarls at him, and clenches her cunt hard, just so he understands. Shark Jaws' dick is one of the few that's able to satisfy her, and she's not going to let him cum-- let alone go soft-- until she has all she wants from him.

He wails, of course, but that just makes Sarah groan harder. "Yeah, I bet you do," she purrs, abs flexing and rolling as she uses his dick roughly.

She sends a rolling ripple of clenches down from her core. "This is your future, pain-slut! Get used to it!"

Thickly built for a male, her new slave trembles as his left arm comes up on her hip. She doesn't punish him for the temerity; instead, eyes widening with pleasure, she lets go of her clit and begins to pump her arm up high. "See all these muscles, Sharky?" she snarls.

He whimpers an affirmative "Yes!" His free hand clenches at her side as hard as he can, so soft against the dense padding of her hip.

A roll of her hip makes his other arm comes up to reflexively grip against the solid column of strength that's grinding his shoulder down again and again. His hold is sweaty on the deeply grooved muscles of her forearm, but not cold at least. Too much pain on him, too much power from her.

And too much pleasure. "I'm going to use this force on you if you don't keep that dick of yours grinding, Sharky," Sarah sneers.

"I'm going to break each bone in your body, then let you heal and break it again. Your dick is responsible for pleasing my clit, even if it rubs you raw-- or you'll be feeding me pain, instead. Got me?"

His dick certainly knows. Her smile grows wider and wider, her lush ass shakes harder and harder, as she feels it spasm around inside her, trying and failing to cum.  _ Oh, look at how much pain he's in! _

It's so cute.  _ I'm glad  _ I _ don't have to no-gasm! _ But he will, again and again...

Sarah tries not to tempt fate like that too much, though, since there's an asterisk--  _ As long as I don't get the attention of the  _ big _ girls… _ Because they like playing those games with other Hunters.

Anyway. Sharky's adorable little abs, still bruised from her earlier play but healing, squeeze and clench, rolling like commanded. His shoulderblades grind against the concrete and he just sobs, "Yes, mistress!" again and again.

Oh-- and he keeps his flat hips up, grinding his heels desperately to keep rubbing his uncut prick in good and hard. Her clitty rewards them both. "Fuck!" she roars.

Sarah, with a fresh rush of pleasure that tenses up her muscles from calves to quads, rocks forward and down, helping her slit reward her pet. For him? A fresh wave of humiliating pain, a fresh roar of triumph from his mistress, and a fresh gush of femmejuices thicker and in greater volume than he could ever manage.

Tears stream down Sharky's face. "Mistress, please, my dick feels like it's going to explode!" he whines.

_ That's good, baby! _

Her eyes widen with her layered pleasure as he shakes and spasms the way his delish dick isn't permitted. "Your pussy is just too strong!" he pleads.

But his grayish skin is turning a faint pink below; his lips, going moist, and his hands clench harder and harder. He ruts his thick, juicy prick into her dominating sex, not for his own pleasure-- which she's stifling and has no intent to stop-- but to keep her clit properly propitiated.

He's so weak. It makes her spit, hard, to the side of his head, powdering the concrete. "Wimp," she snarls.

"Fucking… spineless…  _ WIMP! _ " Her huge bicep begins to vibrate as it gets flexed harder and harder.

Sarah's terrified toy whines, "I don't underst--" Of course he doesn't.

She's orgasming around his trapped rod, beating the shit out of him every other way she can… and his weakness turns him on.

But that's why.

_ Because your weakness feeds me. Because your pain feeds me! Because I  _ have  _ to rape you, and rape you, and I can never stop! _

The hand on his chest rakes up and grabs his throat. "Weak little worm," she roars. "Weak little worms fuck  _ harder! _ "

Her jaw grits together. She's so close to a true, thunderous orgasm, his pain exciting her clit more than his crude humping could ever do. She rolls her head back, making the long, glittering metal-grey of her hair lash over her tensing titan traps.

Eyes going wide, Sharky shakes his head. "But I ca--" It's a mistake.

Her thumb shifts in microscopically. To her. But right now, her Hunger is so wildly out of control that if she gave even the tiniest fraction past that "microscopic," she'd completely collapse his neck.

Suddenly, the once "coulda A-lister" begins to choke and rasp. The tears that soak his face smell so delicious, but she shoves the heel of her palm down against the top of his chest. Brutally anchoring him against the shattered road.

" _ More! _ " she roars at him. Her eyes are wide, and her broad hips flexing down on him, again and again, without anything so weak in  _ her _ as mercy.

"Spineless, weak little worms fuck harder!" she snarls, and then her grin opens wider like she was ready to swallow his whole bod down. "Do I need to give you instructions?"

Bullied by her strength, battered by her fury, and now caught in the madness of her Hunger, Shark Jaws somehow finds a way to be used. "Ye- n-- no, mistress!" he gasps.

His legs have nothing of her grace and agility, even though he's but a slender little dancer to her. So she can see-- and smell, and taste-- the divinely delicious agony as he wrenches his legs back, hooking them around beneath her, and finally starts to pound up properly.

"Mmm! Lazy little pain-slut," Sarah growls.

"Next-- ahh!-- next time if you delay obedience even a  _ second _ to get me to hurt you, I will teach you just how much pain you can love." She pauses just long enough to flex her massive pectoralis muscles, squeezing her huge tits together. "Oh, and survive."

He'd love it all the way to oblivion if she wanted him to.

Her promise makes him and shudder, eyes starting to grow dim-- but she cinches her thumb back anyway. Color starts to make it back to his cheeks-- the thick red blush of arousal-- but she keeps her hand firmly atop the bruises she left from the punishment grip.

Her own legs sweep around as well. Longer, stronger, and just plain hotter than his, she sweeps her heels backwards to hold his calves in place, giving him the only support the should need to pleasure her. Her strength.

Sharky pounds off of her, grunting, "Mmf, mistress-- ah!" Weak little sounds, just like his frantic thrashing is weak, pounding only by courtesy.

Well, courtesy, and the fact that if it wasn't for his own regeneration, he'd be bruising himself against the terrifying density of her achilles' tendons. Not a chance in hell of harming her, but she can see his nerves scream about the pain.

It makes her giggle.

_ Now that his spine is screwed on right for my purposes that has to suck. It's going to feel agonizing, but that agony will make his skin and muscles feel like they're covered in foreskin and being licked. But I've got his cock locked down so hard in my sex, he's got no way to cum! _

Sarah loves it. "Yes!" she moans.

Her hands come up to the monumental swells of her breasts, and she shakes them up and down. Primarily for the feel of it on her own, but also just to make her slut's life a little harder. The endless wave of lush titflesh begin to draw him in...

He can't help it. He's male. Even women seeing her monumental jugs jog up and down start to drool and lose mental coherency-- even straight women! Shark Jaws?

Well, he starts to slow down. Another mistake.  _ BITCHBITCHBITCHFEEDFEEDFEED! _

There's a very,  _ very _ Big Girl indeed-- maybe two-- operating out of USF. That's made it harder to Hunt, and Sarah may be trying to make up for lost time. So she makes it harder for him.

"You think I'm going to hold off on enjoying my titties for  _ you _ , worm?" she yells at him, pupils dilating and shoulders squirming from side to side as she fondles her tits. Her heels dig in and her already stone-hard calves bulge up suddenly.

Licking her lips, Sarah nods to herself.  _ Flex _ go her calves, striations deepening, bulges magnifying, and it slaps his feet, pushing him up harder and harder into her greedy twat. "Oh yeah…."

But there, her pussy, still gushing eagerly, grips him harder. "Unf, yeah, little bitch," she pants. "If I have to keep doing the work myself…"

Her laugh shakes her huge breasts wildly into her hands, but it gets the point across.

Shark Jaws' eyes go wide. "Please!" the former supervillain moans.

He's trapped in a sort of muscular cross between heaven and hell. Her burly body is slamming into his harder and harder, and she  _ will _ increase the pain each time. But her beautiful, soft pillow-knockers are rolling hypnotically, jiggly, squishy flesh bouncing over her hands while her nipples stiffen and re-stiffen.

He's not without some reward. As he slams his body past the extent of its limits, she tilts her head at him, closes her eyes, and groans out, "Fuck yeah!" while her next climax hits. She even permits him the honor of breathing freely again, even though it's only a sampler spasm, nothing like what she  _ needs _ .

Sarah's fingers scoop under his cute little delts, and she lifts him off the ground a bit, grinding his butt further down and making him use his glutes and legs more. She likes good legs, so it just stands to reason she'd give him more exercise with them-- he's going to need to keep being allowed to walk and, y'know, breathe.

_ I'm so generous _ .

Growling and shuddering, Sarah squeezes and pulls at him. "Nngh! Give me more, pain-slut! Scream it!"

"I don't--"

She cuts him off, yanking him up. Her huge biceps bulge, thicker than his thighs, thicker than his pecs and his thighs together, maybe. "Fucking wimp," she snarls again, plastering her palm atop his spine again.

Howling, Shark Jaws does everything he can think of. He thrusts from his flat hips as best he can, completely trapped in her musclebound lips. It's like being raped by an avalanche; his supposedly strong body simply has nowhere to go but in.

Her boulder-like arm-muscles squeeze in, and her boulder-sized breasts squoosh over him, stifling his last mumbles into, "Please let m- mrmph mpliiiffff!"  _ Sounds like he realizes just how last those last mumbles could be. _

"What's that," Sarah coos, "Little worm still wants to live? Suck once for yes, sob twice for no, you want to explode onto my titties."

Finally, Sharky does what he should without having to be told. She knows she's so much smarter than he, but you'd think a man with a dick like that would know what it's for. What he's for.

Especially a man with a dick like that who also named himself Shark Jaws.

His mouth belongs to her pleasure, too. He hollows his cheeks, sucking hungrily on as much breastflesh as he can. She doesn't let him breathe while she flexes all around him, the brawny ripples and long bulges of her quads smacking him up and down in time with her pussy's gripping pull and her calves jamming against his weakly pounding feet.

_ Pounding, heh heh… I guess he's pretty close to breaking his own feet on me, but I can barely feel it! _ Still, all together, she's finally starting to feel him.

"Almost there, wormy-worm!" she groans. "Unf, yeah, suffer for me a bit more, then I'll cum for you."

Her tongue flicks quickly over her teeth. As the slight edge of her teeth is pushed close enough to nearly give her another taste of her own blood, she smirks nastily. "Maybe even let your dick pop."

He doesn't understand of course. Oxygen starvation is making everything both more euphoric, and more fearful, all at the same time. All Sharky does understand is that she's threatening him again, and so he tries to rape himself harder.

Legs that could have left a decent impression in Superman, had he the bravery to try, are flexing their little male best. His hips are sore and creaking, doubly so each time he has to correct course on his thrusts to better please her clit. But she's generous, really, she is-- she's guiding him to thrust against her G without having to do anything more than have his straight, uncut shaft bent a few degrees against its own length.

By the way he sobs into the boob-fat he's sucking on, you'd think she was punching it.  _ Nah, _ Sarah thinks as her toes scrape the concrete down to the earth below.  _ That'll be for once I've let his regeneration recover a bit. _

And she does so love her dick-punching. Even if so far she's had to just love-tap. Only Andy's been allowed to escape that, and only because he makes for a good dildo to-- well.

_ He's going to hate Shark Jaws after his first run… But it makes me happy. I  _ think _ Andy gets why that's important... _

The thought makes her throw back her head, ponytail bouncing, and groan, "Unnnnnf!" Sharky's struggles are growing weak, his damaged superpowers not giving him enough oxygen to tough it out through a little boob smothering.

Well, there's a lot of boob, but it's not like she's making him stay in her cleavage for an hour or two.  _ That's a sometimes treat. Gotta wait for his healing to make it back up. _

But she has other ways of stiffening his spine. "Almost time to po-o-o~op, Shark~y!" she tells him, and suddenly, her sartorius muscles begin to slack… and her adductors bulge.

Now Sharky is thrashing against her, with none of the skill she forced into him. "Stiffening" his spine in this case means all but snapping it again, her enormous quads pushing in… and in… and in  _ against  _ his spine! His pretty blue eyes bug out enough that she has to let him fall away from her breasts or risk truly splattering him.

Wildly spasming in Sarah's scissors, he keeps making her laugh. Every time he tries to beg "Plea--" or "Mih--" or anything like that, it makes her giggle. Which cuts him off with more muscular destruction, more tightening of her legs, more crushing of his cock as she laughs herself to climax.

Those blue eyes are bulging so much, he looks like he's about to lose them.  _ I could do that too, I can do  _ anything  _ to him. But they're so pretty in their natural habitat for now. _

"Yup!" she groans. "I'm almost… ah… I'm almost…"

Shark Jaws goes limp, the damage to his kidneys, hips, and thighs, too much. He's conscious, but barely, his tongue lolling from the side of his mouth. His hands fall away from his hips, but the obscene force with which she's forcing her legs together means he stays resting halfway between the ground and her tits.

"Oooh, fuck, such a weak little… ah… yeah… weak…!" Sarah's voice gets higher pitched. Almost a squeal.

She's not sure he can hear, and she doesn't care; her clit is just going nuclear with the pulses of ecstatic explosion.

And then it hits. "TIME TO POP, WORM!" she laughs, and then… uncinches her bodyscissors from her blue-eyed pain-whore.

As she does, she drops her jaw, closes her eyes, and throws back her head so hard her ponytail whips around and crushes the building she'd raped him for trying to enter, sort of.

_ Oops. Oh well. He can help rebuild. _

But it's only a little thought. Most of her is concentrating on orgasming-- orgasming so hard she nearly compresses his once-pretty dick into a near-literal pencil.

That and the sudden release from some of her legs' destructive power wakes him up, air sucking into his lungs. Only a few of the muscles in his torso are undamaged, but it manages to get a little in, and a bit of a wail before she crows, "Poooopppp goes the Sharky!"

_ I love this part! _

Shark Jaws hands feebly try to reach where their groins meet. What he thinks he'd do, she doesn't know, but she lets her tits fall and bobble wildly, yanking his hands by the wrist and rubbing them over her throbbing clitty until his knuckles start to break. Well, she keeps going long enough to break them thoroughly.

After all, now that she's letting his prick pop, she deserves another climax! She smirks as he sobs and whimpers, preparing to die. His eyes are even prettier, garlanded with such tasty tears.

"Not… mmm… not going to be leaving my service that easily," she groans at him. She loves it; even his pleasure is weak.

The strength of the orgasm she forces on him, deliberately forcing her pussy to loosen its deadly grip on his well-beaten shaft is probably the hardest he's ever cum.

It's nothing compared to the mere  _ aftershocks  _ of her climax. Sarah laughs, groaning and panting and squirming her huge body around as her sex floods him so much harder than his weak seed, fountaining up into her but then washed down his weak little prick. He just can't orgasm enough to keep up.

He tries to faint, arms flopping out to the sides.

"So fucking stereotypical," Sarah sneers. "You get a man off, and he tries to sleep."

Her pussy clenches, and is met with even less resistance than moments prior. "Fuck, and you can't even keep it up? I'm going to have to really work on you, don't I?"

She pouts, then frowns. It's not like he can answer, just drooling off to the side as his brain tries to flee from her. It's not going to happen.

_ Smack! _ Her palm breaks his jaw, marking him again, but she remembers at the last moment not to damage his regeneration further. It's enough to wake him up.

"We're not done, Shark Jaws. If you can't keep yourself hard… I'll take care of that for you."

Shark Jaws' eyes go wide, as Sarah laughs and laughs and laughs. He has no idea, he really doesn't. She has so much fun in mind…


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shark Jaws Miller's time as an independent, free human being is drawing to a close. If he's not careful, so will his time as a living, breathing human being. Mind and body constantly wracked by the Three Drives, the mega-muscled Sarah Miller tracked, Hunted, trapped, and caught him to feed those ever-Hungry Drives.
> 
> She's got him close to hand, and she wants to make sure he learns to love her hand quite a lot. Discipline and humiliation are her tools; her pleasure is her aim. Pleasure-- and dominion.
> 
> The Second Drive, Sadism, cruelty, domination-- it all demands utter submission from him. The only reason it doesn't demand his destruction for imperfection is his use to her and her aims.
> 
> She teaches him to suck her fingers off like a cock; she teaches him that he is never right. She teaches him she is his goddess, and his pain is the sacrifice she adores.
> 
> And there is such worship she desires of him...

Poor Shark Jaws. The former supervillain is completely unable to keep up with Sarah Russell's manic Hungers. Finally permitted to cum in her, she's feed well and long on him.

Unfortunately for them both… It's not enough. It's  _ never _ enough.

Sobbing wildly, he tries to-- explain? Beg? "But if--" is as far as she lets him go.

After all, she doesn't really care.

Before he can do much more than start the "f" Sarah thrusts her fore and middle fingers into his mouth. Panicked but not  _ that _ stupid, he begins to choke and thrash-- weakly, even for him-- but doesn't bite. She's got  _ that  _ much into his silly little bald head.

"Oh, Shark Jaws," she coos. "Do you really think you're going to escape being my entertainment if you  _ don't _ suck like the slut you are?"

Shark Jaws' struggles stop  _ instantly _ . She giggles, lips curling back and belly flexing. Her abs go rigid, and his half-soft cock gets an agonizing grip.

"I'm  _ also  _ not going to waste my time," she says with a happy sigh, nudging her knees together against his side. Given how hard Sarah's nipples get, and the slight drool in the corner of her lips as she contemplates other options, he gets the point fast enough.

_ There's something absolutely beautiful about the look on a man's face the first time he has to suck on something he doesn't want. I mean, really. Look at him! _

Shark Jaws has been subjected to agonizing torture. His spinal cord has been expertly and brutally re-wired to treat so much incoming traffic as pain, and to treat pain as pleasure. But the thing that has him sobbing and gulping with almost no direct violence?

Having two fingers-- belonging to a beautiful woman, no less- shoved down his throat. She hasn't even shoved them far enough to cut off his oxygen supply yet. It makes her want to spit, but she doesn't want to distract him.

Instead, she decides to be helpful! "You can do so much better than that, Sharky," she purrs, bringing up the forefinger of her other hand to her lips. There, she slowly swirls the flat of the tongue over just the tip, sometimes teasing her tongue down the left, then the right.

After a few moments, she inclines her head at Sharky, and wriggles her eyebrows.

Just in case he  _ doesn't _ get it, she also thrusts her fingers back and forth in his mouth.

She can feel his feeble body shaking and shuddering; see the revulsion coursing through his expression, his hormones-- his everything. The tears that roll down his already-stained cheeks; the terrified dilation of his pupils.

But suck he does, so she nods eagerly. His eyes were always beautiful, the only thing about him beautiful other than his weakness. And now, they're full of realization and self-loathing.

_ Gorgeous! _

Scooting her plump ass back and forth, keeping her cunny tightly squeezed so his pretty prick can't escape, she lets out a long, pleasured moan. "Oh,  _ Sharky, _ yeah! You do know how to suck, don'tcha, babe?"

Then Sarah laughs in his face when he freezes, and forces both fingers all the way to the back of his throat. "Better get back to it, hon, now that I know you know how… Have I struck you as a patient woman?"

Since she asks by lightly tapping her knuckles into his stomach on the word "strike," slamming his whole torso back to the ground and nearly rupturing his abdomen-- why, it looks like Sharky can learn!

To the lovely feel and sound of his stifled whimpers and gags, she keeps up the good work, grinding her hips and shaking the lush padding about, while her fingers keep rutting back and forth in time in his mouth. "Oooh, more!" she coos. "Hollow up those cheeks, Sharky, or I'll strike you as a  _ really _ impatient woman!"

Panting and moaning atop him, her pussy ruthlessly crushing his prick as it tries to come back up to hardness, Sarah enjoys herself. She makes sure her lithe little slave knows how much his slurping on her fingers is making her juices flow. When he licks, she lets out a shuddering moan; when he bobs his head, she grunts, and squeezes her thighs in around all his stocky stubbiness.

Her musk floods over them both, soaking his groin as he does, indeed, hollow his cheeks as he goes. But it's far too slow for her.  _ Time for more instruction! _

"Look, get a rhythm, bitch!" she growls. "Bob, bob, swirl, bob, bob,  _ hard _ suck, bob, bob,  _ impress Sarah or she's going to use the fingers of her other hand on your ass! _ "

With each word, she cinches her thighs a little bit tighter shut. With every 'bob', she flexes her quadriceps a little harder. And she flicks her fingertip at the back of his throat each time she downthrusts.

Sharky gets a rhythm going, oddly enough! His head bobs back and forth, and she thrusts her thick fingers and her curvaceous hips down in perfect timing. When he reaches his maximum extension, each time she pants out, "Ah!"

When he swirls his tongue around the tip, she groans helpful commentary, like, "Yeah, that's how you get your blowjob on, baby!" or "Fuck, just imagine if your dick was as big as my fingers-- or is that why you're getting so hard?"

Sarah makes sure it's all as humiliating as possible. Not just because it gets her off-- she also makes sure to roar out her climaxes and slam her ass down  _ hard _ on his thighs, only when he's giving her fingers the choicest bits of tongue-circling-- but because the humiliation (and the choking) is getting her new slut off, too..

Oh yes, gets  _ him  _ off. Sharky's dick is quite thick in her sex now. His precum is leaking everywhere, and slowly but surely, his bruised and battered hips rut back up to meet her.

Sarah wants to reward his cooperation. "Look at yourself, Sharky," she whispers in between deeper and deeper grunts.

The gagged moan of despair tells her she might as well have put up a mirror. "Unf! I gotta make sure you wear lipstick next time I prep you for anal," she purrs, and he shudders all the more.

But Sharky still sucks her fingers just the way she likes.

"Just imagine, mmm, you'll be able to both challenge yourself to deep throat more of me, honey--  _ and _ I'll be able to decorate your ass. Now-- ahh!-- no more of this amateur hour stuff, boy."

She leers and blows a kiss at him, wriggling her fleshy ass around. "Your dick is hard from sucking me off, pretty little boy. Ooh, yeah!" she gasps, another little climax hitting as he starts to thrash around.

"You're  _ finally _ rutting up in me like I deserve," Sarah says with a smirk. "Because you're getting what  _ you _ want. I'd be pissed about how stereotypical  _ that _ is, too, but I can deal!"

She giggles, watching him gag harder, trying to retch up her fingers. "I like sluts who swallow, Sharky," she groans, licking her lips. "You try to spit, and I take your teeth. You savvy?"

For once, he doesn't seem to get it. His eyes bug out-- though how tight she's scissoring his abdomen probably isn't helping, and he thrashes back with renewed force. Not that it moves even a single pussy hair of hers; he's just too weak.

"You gonna play hard to suck?" she pants. "Aw, yeah, I can play that too!"

Sarah pulls her fingers all the way back out from his mouth. "Fuck you, I ain--" he starts to snarl, some backbone found in her little slut at last.

  
"Remember I broke your spine, honey?" she suggests. "Now is not the time to give me  _ another _ new target."

Sharky's jaw drops; she figures that's excellent timing. "Fuck yeah, bitch! Ooh, ooh,  _ yeah! _ " she cries, throwing back her head.

He barely has any time to respond-- except how she wants-- as she uses his body and his pain, all for her pleasure.

Sarah's long ponytail whips down, dancing inches above his spasming thighs. Biting her lower lip, Sarah roars out another orgasm, far harder than the last. Only when she's done screaming and creaming-- this time-- does she purr, "Open up wide!"

His jaw's still slack, so she forces  _ three _ fingers down into his mouth all at once. She can feel his jaw starting to go, though, so with that-- and his teeth, actually-- she's careful. Not that she lets him feel that.

The point really isn't to turn him into a finger-sucking genius. It isn't even really to turn him into a cocksucking savant, though she can't wait to watch Andy top him. The thing is…

Sarah's here to feed herself, to break a new slave in, and to get off. Just the act of repeatedly torturing him is doing great for the first, of course. As well it should be!

But specifically playing on his toxic masculinity, fucking with all the things the culture says he shouldn't love-- and making sure he sees the most beautiful woman in the world cumming from how much she enjoys him raped that way-- that shatters his will like very little else that leaves him intact.

The whole time, she's been forcing him hard. Forcing him to further associate humiliation and pain with sexual pleasure, her deft, strong pussy as dextrous as a fist gripped around his fat prick. That's why he keeps rutting his hips up for her; that's why he's giving her what she needs.

_ That's _ why she's cumming, not some weird finger-dick power that Hunters don't have, or whatever he thinks is going on here.

But he doesn't know that. All  _ Sharky _ knows is that she's raping him, cock, mouth, and body. That she's hurting him, getting off without any care for him-- or if she is, it's negative, the more he hurts and the more he loathes what's done, the better it is for her.

(And that's true!)

But at the same time, she's making him feel pleasure that he could never dream possible.

Sure, her folds are like steel bands wrapped around his cock and tightening. But she's already screwed with his ability to transmit pain to the brain. And since she's expertly maneuvering those "steel" bands to keep his entire dick feeling like  _ she _ was blowing him…

The only downside from his cock's POV is that she's not going to let him cum again. The pain? Just another reason-- another  _ requirement _ \-- to get hard.

_ A lot of women used to say men were led around by their cocks. _ She giggles to herself. _ With the right kind of abuse, it can be literally true! _

"Fuck!" she screams suddenly, the latest climax missed-- not from a capital-crime-worthy failing of his, but because it's shoved aside by an even stronger one building up deep inside.

Hating her, hating himself, but loving her fingers with amateurish enthusiasm, Shark Jaws has  _ finally _ got a rhythm to hit her G-spot. She doesn't mind an extension of the build-up. Hardly!

Thrusting her fingers, all three, deeper and deeper in his mouth, until his mouth is so far open it looks like it might one day be able to take her nipples, she starts to writhe. "Unf, baby, gimme more! Suck down hard, you little slut!"

Her broad shoulders toss back and forth, her neck squirming opposite their movement. As he sucks for his very life, his lips sealed tight around her knuckles, she groans out, "Ahnnnn!" and the climax strikes her.

Her steel gray hair dances with them, flowing over her back and into the air. As he groans and humps up helplessly, precum flowing but nothing else, she smiles and nods to him, swirling her fingers in his mouth like she was stirring a pot. "That's i-- i… ooh! That's  _ it! _ "

She abruptly releases his midsection, thighs staying flexed but her knees sliding wide. Her feet slam back under his ass, hefting him up off the ground and grinding his groin against her dominating cunny. " _ Yeah! _ " she howls, her female ejaculation coating his cock and balls and thighs and the ground beneath him.

"Just remember," she purrs, slowing her hips but not stopping them, her own bubble butt clenching. "Just remember that if you go slack, I have ways of getting you hard again, sweetie…" she moans, and pulls her fingers out of his mouth.

"Please don't!" he blubbers, and she shakes her head.

"Tell me what you did wrong," Sarah giggles, her toes pushing his butt up harder as she clamps her slit down hard on his still-stiff dick. Her huge hands reach back behind her, squeezing his "muscular" thighs hard enough to bruise. "Tell me!" she roars.

Shark Jaws is completely under her spell. He's not an expert lover; even for a Hunter, teaching a slave  _ that _ can take hours. Why, it took her a whole day to turn Andy into a brat-switch extraordinaire.

A tiny part of her-- the part who was born and lived for a bit over two decades as Sarah Russell, decent human being-- whispers,  _ I've only been this way for three days. How did I get patterns? Preferences? _

_ How did I learn what made rapes the most fun? In just… three… days? _

But the rest of her presumes that the Hungers go on forever. So as Shark Jaws cries out "I thought of myself first!" and then mewls, shaking his whole body fit to be a vibrator, she wrinkles her nose at him.

Then she begins to bounce his ass up and down with her feet while her fingers scrape along his inner thighs. Closer and closer to the plush expanse of her ass, squishing out over his nuts and the top of said thighs alike. A horrible smile, all the more terrible for the beauty of the honeyed lips it graces, spreads across her face.

"Mmm-- more!" she howls. "More, or I let you cum!"

_ Hee. So generous-- giving him a choice! _

Sarah's pretty sure her new toy has never fought  _ not _ to jizz, except maybe when being beaten on by a superheroine. But he cries out, thrusting his sexy shaft up into her and grinding his hips at an unnatural angle to better pleasure her. "I-- I tried not do what you wanted-- I tried not to  _ be _ what you wanted-- oh, God, please don't let me cum!"

"No," she answers, and then  _ another _ super-orgasm hits her.  _ This is going great! _

_ For me, and that's all that matters, right? _

Because the moment she answers in the negative, the moment she changes how her pussy is squeezing him, he cums. Bawling like a baby, thrusting all the harder as he squeezes his cute little glutes up-- like it could protect his ass from her, really-- he orgasms, his well-beaten balls spewing their contents right up his long, straight shaft, making it bulge inside her so nicely.

"You forgot to call me  _ Goddess! _ " she roars as Sharky blubbers. Variations on a theme are so much fun.

Sarah really is enjoying this. Her big abs are flexing hard from the way her sadism-drive is adding onto the overal pleasure and her clit and nips just can't seem to stop throbbing! "Yes!" she screams again.

He cries, and it makes her sex spasm harder. He shrinks back, trying to clench his legs together to try to ward her off, and it makes her clit feel like the entire sun had been turned into a ball of sensation and brought down to warm the stiff top nub. He cums, and cums, and doesn't even realize he never got soft.

"Guess it's tiiiime!" she gasps-- and whips her body full around.

Instead of rubbing towards the joint of his thighs, her hands sap around beneath his bald skull. Instead of leaning back, she crouches forward, her cushiony melons slamming out across his thick torso-- leaving nipple-sized bruises across the grayish-white skin.

Sarah pushes closer, and closer, until she's so close that all she has to do is open her mouth and moan, " _ Oooohhh! _ " and she can drool right down into his mouth, so recently adoring her fingers.

Shark Jaws can learn, it seems-- he swallows her spit down like a pro.  _ Andy's going to love him. And I'm going to love watching! _

Once he's managed to swallow it down, Sarah tenderly caresses his smooth dome, squeezing her sex over his still-spasming shaft.

"I was never gonna touch  _ your _ asshole, asshole," she half-groans, half-giggles. "You got hard just because you were afraid… and you were choking…"

She kisses him fiercely on the lips, stroking her thick tongue, bigger than her two fingers, into his mouth. Gyrating it back and forth like she did her fingers, she waits until he starts to hollow his cheeks again like a good boy, and  _ then _ she breaks the kiss. Her smile could swallow a  _ god _ of sharks.

"And because you're my  _ slut _ now," she snarls, and rushes forward. His dick pops out of her pussy, still spraying cum wildly-- he's lucky it misses her beautiful ass or he'd be getting a cleaning test-drive-- and she bites his ear, tugging on it hard.

Through her clenched teeth she hisses, "You belong to me!" Then wrenches.

"I do!" he wails. "I do, I do! Oh, Goddess, I belong to you!"

"And?"

"And it makes me hard!"

"AND?!"

"And it gets me off because I'm such a huge slut for you!"

"That's  _ right! _ " Sarah laughs, and rocks back on her heels, leaving his ear attached-- for the moment. She scoots forward, tightening up her glutes just before she brings her ass down on his crotch, making it good and hard while she does so. Only when he starts to choke and twitch does she relax and sink back onto her firm, jiggly assfat.

Her sex drools onto his so-called abs. Some of his cum, of course; he really did cum a bucket or two in her on that last one. Enough for her to reach over and start painting little pictures in it over his belly.

In his cum-- and hers. Sarah has to; there's so much more of the latter that it'd take actual effort not to, and why would she bother, for  _ him _ ? "Mmm. You're starting to get it, sugar. Maybe next time I can  _ really _ fuck you right, not this gentle, tender bullshit."

Wiping her ejaculate and his thin seed off her fingers onto his eyelids, she stands slowly, pushing herself up when she feels an unwanted-- but not entirely unexpected sudden rush of Sadism-Drive pleasure.  _ CLICK _ goes her anger.

Shark Jaws has fainted dead away.

The sting of her promise and the sting of their cum over his eyes was apparently too much for the little freak. "I  _ told _ you I don't like stereotypes! That includes rolling over and going to sleep afterwards!"

Sarah grits her teeth, and wraps her fingers into a huge fist. The dig of her nails into her palm stings  _ her, _ and a slow burn pushes its way up along her forearm from there. Her muscles taper out, the wrapped masses of flexors tightening and making the individual lines and fibers stand out all the more prominently.

The first's power doesn't end there. Holding her arm up and back, she feels her bicep starting to grind into the vibrating hill of power just below her elbow. Pain, beautiful pain, if shallow, crunches into her arm from the tension and the slam of her bicep into the forearm.

_ I could end him. _

Of course she can. Of course, all that would take would be her toe. Even a little tension of her skin next to him.

Her Hungers scream out for it, for the ultimate thrill. The nastier done, the better-- oh, the things she could do to his skull alone...

_ I could mutilate him so deeply that he never regenerates again. _

A bit harder, but acceptable. She'd need to spend time lovingly crafting out the destruction, battering bits and their preternatural enhancements within such a small target-- it's precision work. But he'd never live a single  _ second _ again after that without cursing and craving her.

Sarah does none of these. Not from some nonexistent mercy or empathy, but from a cold pragmatism prodding its way from beneath her outraged Hunger.  _ Andy fainted dead away, and now he's my favorite playtoy. _

_ I've only been doing this three days, but it's already getting harder to find humans someone else hasn't taken. SooOOoo. If I destroy everything that's imperfect, I'll be left with nothing but myself and a bunch of other, angry Hunters. _

A gleaming smile twitches across Sarah's face in fits and starts. "What's yours is mine, Sharky," she giggles. "What's  _ you _ is mine, too. You'll learn about appropriate nap times, yes, you will…"

Laughing endlessly to herself, she reaches down to grab Sharky by the ankle. No more weight to her than the safety door would be. Or the building. Or… Well.

"The only weight is in my head, you see," she explains as she yanks him up over her broad shoulder. His stomach cushions some of the blow as he slams into the wavy bulge running from her traps to her left deltoid. She's almost disappointed it doesn't make him vomit.

With that, she whistles to herself, and inhales deeply. His scent is close, but the scent of him after she started in is so deliciously different than when she first spotted him that finding his trail is easy enough. "Let's see what you've been holding onto, baby."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All is dark for Shark Jaws Miller. He didn't quite make it through Sarah Russel's little wringer or the wringing of her core, clenching around him, awake. She's decided to punish him for that.
> 
> (To be fair, she punishes him for everything; even obedience is only less punishment)
> 
> Waking collared and hard and broken to the sound of her laughter, he discovers that she's traced him to his home. He's spent nearly four decades since puberty living the high life, laying out pain and taken what he wanted. Collected it carefully-- never the most important or impressive caches, but valuable enough.
> 
> At least, he thought his stash was valuable.
> 
> And left it in ruins. Taking what she wanted, Sarah has left everything else defaced or otherwise ruined what was left. But that's because she's generous.
> 
> She has final lessons to teach Herman Miller, and by the time she's through..
> 
> She is his goddess, and he, her pain-loving muscle-slut. He even smiles for her.

It's been either the worst day ever or the best for Shark Jaws Miller, depending on what part of him you're asking. The terrified little ego-remnant, the part of him that still believes he's a person, that part of him is, well, terrified. He fainted after what that part has to hope is a nightmare, an awful nightmare that he will sleep away.

He'd even accept sleeping it away forever.

But the part of him that Sarah Russell put in him-- the part that she literally ground into him with her superior strength-- that part was  _ born _ today. It doesn't matter whether or not she's right, and he was into being beaten on by superheroes.

She wants him to be a pain-slut. A muscle-loving, cringing, squirming pain slut. And so he shall be.

All is dark.

All is darkness and a tingling, shivery sensation, crawling around Sharky's body. Outlining muscles he once was so proud of, and now barely thinks worthy of the name. Illuminating his worthlessness.

His throat is tight. Constricted. He can barely breathe

The sensation is so hard to recognize. It makes his limbs tense up; his cock throbs with it. Light vibrations spread along his skin, warm and warmer.

The stiffness bulges against itself everywhere. Little lightning-like snaps from the clenches, gone before he can do much more than drool. His whole frame seems to have been locked in place by it.

Everywhere. Everywhere. And his cock is so hard.

Sharky's muscles do not respond to him; each is as rigid as his dick. The tightness at his throat is warmer than his skin alone. Smoother.

It's not her fist. It's not her fingers. Something...

_ Oh, _ he realizes when he feels the wetness running down his cheeks.  _ Pain. I'm in so much pain I can barely breathe. _

And it makes him want to cum so hard he wakes up with a stifled sob. "Cum…" he groans, and reaches feebly towards his dick.

The crack of pain across both of his wrists nearly gets him to climax anyway. Or rather, the sharp pain makes his face screw up, his fingers clench and his hips hump up-- is it up? it feels like up-- repeatedly.

But he can't cum. Just like when her superior pussy held him,, he can feel the glands shifting, the blood pumping, and the sphincters  _ try _ to release. Nothing.

Nothing but a savage feeling of being blocked, like his dick was betraying him.

Then her laughter fills his ears. Contemptuous, deep, with smooth, rich tones hiding a savage edge. The blur of the world resolves.

In front of his head is an upside-down pair of leather boots against a blurry background; the light is bright, and the ceiling is-- fuzzy.  _ No, that's the floor _ .

Shark Jaws realizes where he is.  _ Home! _ His little subterranean lair-- the one he only stays at between jobs, the one that he's spent so long painstakingly removing only choice bits of loot…

She's here.

Despite the jagged, snapping feeling that accompanies his motions, Shark Jaws forces himself to sit up on, yes, his double-king bed. A bed that had plenty of room even for him, feels oddly small. Dingy.

The change in the lighting probably doesn't help; natural light filtering over the fluorescents makes shadows stretch in strange combinations.. His jaw drops. "My pa--"

_ Whack! _ Pain explodes across the back of his head; his skull cracking. His vision dims, his ears ring and his hips can't stop shaking.

It makes his cock bob about like a car antenna.

The stiffness at his throat jangles, crunching into his collarbones. His hands slap up towards his throat, fingers twitching, finding-- steel?

They start to curl, but not for long. Sarah's growl stops his fingers before they can even put his fingerprints into it. "You get your pretty collar so much as  _ smudged _ , and I'm shoving it somewhere much tighter than your rectum, Sharky."

Possibilities he'd never even dreamed of erupt throughout his mind. His eyes widen and his joints lock in place. "Now," she continues, "I'm not sure a wimp like you  _ can _ damage battlesteel like that."

"It's from a good source. But it was risky to get. At least looting your little boy cave here has helped to make up for it."

_ Looted. _ Shark Jaws' mouth goes open as wide as the barrier of his collar permits. He looks around.

In some ways, it'd be less bad if everything was gone. At least then his values would have meaning. All of the electronics are gone, at least the ones in view of his bedroom.

Which is a lot more than his bed plus the open doors; she's left huge holes in the wall showing the main living space, the bathroom, the kitchen, and the gaping hole in the floor leading to his storage areas.

But she didn't take everything. Some of the artwork he'd painstakingly collected-- never the most valuable, sure, but stuff that was worth it or that he liked-- is present, but nothing she left behind she didn't deface.

The jewelry lockers are peeled open. Necklaces and rings and bracelets spilled onto the floor; all broken, many with the gems removed (if any); some sitting in piles of powder that  _ had _ been gems. Several rings are just squashed flat-- like she very carefully tapped them with her toe, just to make sure the ruin was recognizable.

"I spent  _ years _ \--"

Another laugh cuts him off. "Collecting  _ garbage. _ More than half of the gems were fake."

The sneer's hard to take in the first place, but his new owner isn't done; Shark Jaws should probably be used to that by now.

"And not, y'know, the perfect labmade stuff. Horrible  _ crap _ . But, hey, you had enough piercings for when I decorate you tomorrow."

He's too stunned to realize what Sarah's implying when she brings her fingers up to start stroking the huge columns of her nipples, pinching lightly "Wha--" Again, her horribly beautiful laughter cuts him off.

The intense musk of her pleasure softens some of the blow; but it just gets his fat prick throbbing more, the veins bulging like they're trying to flex to show off for her. Agony is his, and agony makes his cocktip and mouth drool together. Positive reinforcement begins.

Then she grabs his left nipple. The screaming hot stab of it breaks through any possible haze of pleasure. The twist that follows…

Well, that's positive reinforcement, too. Of a kind, adding stimulus. And boy, does she know how to add pain.

His senses flicker in and out as his limbs flail wildly. He's lost in agony so bad he's not sure she didn't just take it right off. Somehow, though, she keeps the pain from blowing his wad-- and somehow, she's  _ quite _ audible.

"Let me make this very clear, Sharky," Sarah says slowly. "You belong to  _ me _ . You  _ think _ how I want you to think, you  _ act _ how I want you to act, and you  _ do _ what I tell you to do-- in fact…"

She yanks him up  _ by  _ the nipple. Screaming and flailing, his hands and shins smack into her, but she just makes that horrible laugh again. The one that gets his balls tightening up and filling with cum all at the same time.

"No-- I-- Auuuuugh!"

Shark Jaws really does pass out this time again; he wakes to vomiting over her bed, with her knuckles still indented into his belly. "Get it all out, you little puke!" she roars at him, and Heaven help him, he does, throwing up everything he had left.

It's not that he had to work very hard to get the beds down here. He'd purchased a pair of memory foam mattresses, had them delivered to a different address, and carried them the rest of the way himself. Easy.

But…

Sharky's about to object. About to protest. But then he realizes.

_ If I call it my bed… _

His body quakes. Sarah's palm is on his shoulder, fingers curling around and digging in. "That's it," she groans, and he can hear the pleasured vibration in it.

His nose is full of her, lungs burning with the heady taste of a Hunter's horniness.

He's intoxicated by her. Terrified by her. His lips are yanked back down so far they're almost hitting his jawline, his brows are trying to leap off his forehead.

_ If I think of it as my bed… _

"Say it!" she roars, the wind whipping over him, splattering his vomit over the bed further. Dust and debris take flight from her rage.

Slumping forward as far as her excruciating grip will permit, Shark Jaws hangs his head. "If I still thought of this as mine, you'd… you'd… you'd break my legs and make me crawl away, just to watch you destroy what's left!"

"As a minimum," his… mistress says. His goddess, that's what she wanted to be called.

His goddess purrs. "At a minimum," she repeats. "And I'd be kicking your slow ass all the way."

The butt in question clenches, his thighs doing their best horrible imitation of her gorgeous expansion and chiseled majesty as his legs wrap around each other. Kicking at the knees, bending around his sore belly, he rocks as much as she lets him. Like she simply doesn't care what he does now.

From a certain point of view, she really doesn't.

"I don't need an enforcer; you're too fucking weak anyway," Sarah explains. "You're not a good anything else-- anything at all. Except…"

"Fucktoy," he whispers.

She claps for him! Energetically, too palms smashing together repeatedly. The force unleashes sonic booms on him and the remains of where he'd once hid from the world, from the Hunters, from consequences.

"You're getting it!" she giggles. "Who's my good little Sharky then? Who's it?"

Tears streak from the corners of his eyes, and he bends his neck, chin rubbing against the collar. "I am, if I know what's good for me."  _ And what's good for me is my goddess's pleasure. _

" _ Bingo _ ," the monstrously gorgeous and beautifully buff goddess tells Sharky. "Anything else you  _ thought _ you had?"

She waits for a few moments, making sure he says it in his head repeatedly before snarling, "Mine now. Some of it some of my bitches will get to use. The rest?"

Sarah grabs him by the top of his head, and hauls him around. Makes him look. Makes him see the ruin all over again.

She even hauls him on a guided tour, his body dangling around like the skeleton she makes him seem. Shark Jaws still has both concepts in his mind. The sense of being a big, stocky man, broad in the shoulder, heavyset and…

No. Not powerful. He can't even think powerful about himself-- he can't think the concept anywhere  _ near  _ himself anymore.

He can't think that, anymore. That's already gone. Dead, because whenever he thinks about, say, his biceps, let alone his quads or his pecs, he has to compare them to his memory of her. 

Standing above him. Descending onto him. Taking hm.

So close he can see just how much her  _ forearms _ make his thighs look like spindly little things. Enveloping his thick prick and squeezing the sex out of it, fucking him hard and using his body like a half-punching bag, half-love pillow. An inanimate object, some physician's skeleton with a couple of extra bits.

So he knows he's not powerful, and even the part of him who remembers four days ago knows that, too.

And the other side of him?

The laughing, crazy goddess's little lithe dancer. Not a skeleton-- allowed to keep breathing-- because he's thick enough to please her, but otherwise a cute little thing. Agile, almost.

He was sobbing when she hauled him away. By the time she holds him up over the gaping crater leading to his storage facilities? He's weeping and shuddering, all but wailing.

She sets him on his feet, and slaps him tenderly on the ass, only leaving a red handprint and not purpled with bruises. "I'm not leaving  _ anything _ intact behind. You serve me, or you're just detritus left with all the rest."

Chest heaving, eyes wide, fingers of her right hand stroking over her still-engorged labia while her thumb circles her clit, she purrs. "So." Groaning, she squirms, her ass bouncing up and down and her mammoth tits wobbling about triumphantly.

"What's it going to be, little minnow?" she asks, tongue stroking the left corner of her mouth. "Free piece of shit? Or owned piece of ass?"

Then Sarah nods at the ground. "On your knees? Or  _ lose _ your knees?"

"Yours," he says wearily. He can't even cry any more. His girthy shaft wobbles, stiffer and stiffer, as he forces himself down onto his aching knees.

Precum drools down onto shreds of a painting he was told was worth five fucking hundred thousand dollars.

He's too dead to even ask why. She's standing over him, licking her upper lip and rapidly circling her shapely, stiff clit around while she watches him. Her pupils have dilated, but it feels like they've narrowed in on him.

Her skin is covered with sweat, but in his pain and humiliation, it glitters like diamonds. There's tension, there, under smooth and glossy skin. Her enormously muscular thighs are slightly apart, the chiseled definition and spiderwebs of tertiary consort muscles like a map of his future.

"You're my fucktoy," Sarah says with that horrendously squeaky cheer she used before. "I'm going to rape you.  _ Hurt  _ you."

Her moan becomes a gasp, and her well-padded hips rut back and forth, the long, broad stretches of muscle beneath her taut skin pulsing and pounding like engines. "I will damage your body, for my own purposes,  _ and  _ just because it gets me off." Femmejuices run down her thighs again, coating every curve and swell in the heady-sweet stuff.

"I've got slaves who do useful things around the place; you don't mess with them, but you don't answer to them, either." Her eyes are as bright as the shine on her teeth, as wide as her devouring smile. "That said-- you  _ do _ do what my senior fucktoys tell you… or I consider you disobedient. Clear?"

Shark Jaws Miller has spent nearly four decades living large, laying down the pain and always getting his. He's robbed, killed, and definitely maimed. And if consent hasn't been withheld when he pawed some woman in a bar, paid for expensive drinks and took her to his  _ other _ apartments…

It's not like he would have listened to a no if any of his  _ conquests _ felt safe enough to say it 

"Clear," he whispers, and Goddess Sarah jills out another orgasm, roaring at the top of her lungs and jutting her hips at him so he can see the flooding juice. From a pussy so beautiful he's starting to believe he'll die if he doesn't get to serve it often enough.

Now, he's nothing. A slightly more resilient vibrator. A punching bag for a glorious, gargantuan super-amazon whose smallest toe could end his world, and to whom he is losing the ability to  _ conceive _ of other women as objects of desire.

Tears and pre fall on the floor, and he howls in pain as she steps lightly onto his dick. It feels like a building-sized giantess stomped, instead. Then things get worse 

"In exchange, if you're an obedient, adequate slut, I won't kill you or cripple you forever," she moans while her big toe and its nearest neighbor squeeze more precum out. Not even through further pain.

"Mmmf!" he grunts, trembling as he holds himself in place. Too cowed to either rut into her expert foot or to make any noises save an animal's, he kneels as she makes free with him. "Uhn… ahhhn!"

Footjobbing him straight into the debris of his former life.

"Ooh," Sarah groans. "That's some  _ quality _ despair there, little man. But… Damn."

She lets out a series of preorgasmic gasps, piping and even higher than his voice, despite the gap in their masses. "If you could look at your face… you're trying to hate this pretty hard but maybe you should wait until you cum to put on the O-face?"

Wriggling her eyebrows, Sarah rapes him gently. His whole meta-strong and male-weak body shakes and clenches and spasms as her toes give him a completely untainted run at bliss. Untainted by pain, anyway.

_ He _ feels tainted. By weakness. By pleasure. In his very soul, he feels the worm she named in.

"Nnngh!" Shark Jaws groans again. His chest tightens, puny male pecs squeezing as best they may. As the unequaled caress of her toes flicks up and down over such a small section of his dick and yet with such a  _ huge _ burst of ecstasy with each clench.

Sarah ignores his dick otherwise, except to occasionally press down with her heel, rubbing it over the broad, blunt crown, splurting and splattering more of his pre everywhere.

But it's his pain that feeds his Goddess.

" _ Fuck! _ You keep that up and, mmmf! Momma will buy you a pretty pair of tight jeans and a nice shirt! Be my sweet little fuckboi!"

Drooling pre, with saliva hanging from the edge of his lips, Shark Jaws surrenders. Surrenders all the more as she snarls, "I'll even feed you something other than pussy occasionally… Even though you'll learn to regret that!"

He already does. Wailing and screaming like the captive bitch he is, he cums all over the floor. All over the bottom of her foot.

Sarah has basically turned him into a living tool for sex, and that includes whatever she wants done with sex. Like leaving a mark on the ruination. His balls, swollen up to half again their normal size, disgorge their contents, mixing and turning into his wad.

Her foot may be soft, almost gentle with his dick, but his orgasm isn't; nor is his rewired spine. His new owner may find him adorable; she may even find his cock acceptable meat. But that just means that she wants to see him suffer in exquisite detail.

The rush of seed goes everywhere, but it's when it's cumming up along his shaft that he's hurt the most. Every bulge seems to spike new jolts, pushing him further to the edge. Further into her power.

Herman Miller has never cum this hard in all this life. He's not thinking about triumph-- he doesn't even believe that's possible. He's not thinking about escape.

He's just staring at that absolutely breathtaking pussy of hers-- a sex to die for, that he  _ would _ die for if she called him to it-- and thinking about how she'll taste when she finally allows him the honor.

Even his pain is immaterial. Distant. It's what makes his Goddess happy, so it's good; but it's his suffering that feeds her so he suffers.

But all of it seems like it's happening to another person.

After all, he's unworthy to even please her.

There is no Shark Jaws anymore. She might call him Sharky-- or Minnow-- but he's just Herman now. Her Herman, whenever she decides.

So when she shoves him back on his ass with her heel to the face, the blood streaming down from his broken nose doesn't bother him. Not even when he has to lick it up, mixed with his cum and the debris of the floor. In fact...

"Yeah," Goddess Sarah growls. "You do have an oral fixation, don't you?"   
  
She has said it, so he does. Caught beneath the power of her foot, and caught by her power, period, Herman surrenders to the super-amazon without even a hint of further protest. His tongue lovingly strokes every crease of her huge foot, slurping up every last bit of mess.

He even finds it an honor when she wipes the spit off onto his face. After all, it means he has more of a purpose. He even smiles.


End file.
